


When the Phoenix Sings

by Tsukiwolf42



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Jaskier | Dandelion, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Monster Worship, POV Alternating, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Post-Season/Series 01, Swearing, Unhappy Ending, now with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukiwolf42/pseuds/Tsukiwolf42
Summary: Still in the shadow of the Mountain, Jaskier wanders aimless and songless, coming to terms with a life without Geralt. That is until he meets  Lady Maja, a mysterious noble with an offer that could help him find his purpose again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple of thanks to throw out before we can get to the reason you are here.  
> Thank you Mephisto for betaing this and convincing me to write it. This never would have happened without you.  
> Thank you Angoose for listening to me rant and looking at the first chapter of this and being amazing support.  
> Thank you ChickengoesMoo for listening to me rant about this silly idea and cheering me along.  
> I owe all three of you more than I will ever be able to repay.  
> Alright, let’s get to the story. Hope you enjoy it.

“Listen, bard, ya ain’t got enough for a room, but if ya want to liven the place up a little, I might be able to cut ya a deal.” 

“Ahh, well I can surely try my good sir. If nothing else, I am but a bard through and through.” Jaskier said, plastering on his best smile. 

“You sing a couple a songs about that Witcher a yers and I’ll see what I can do for ya.” The Innkeeper nodded towards the room that was slowly filling up with people coming in from the fields for dinner. He didn’t notice Jaskier’s smile drop at the reminder of Geralt.

“Well, you see...I don’t sing those songs anymore.” Jaskier replied slowly. He knew this wasn’t going to end well, no matter where he went they only ever wanted to hear songs about the White Wolf. But he was almost out of coin, and this admittedly less than reputable establishment was his last hope to stay in a bed for the night before it was back out on the road. He didn’t even know where it was he was headed besides away. Away from that cursed Mountain and away from the man that had held his heart and tore it to shreds. 

“What kinda bard doesn’t give the people what they want?” The innkeeper asked, turning to scowl at him. “If ya want the deal, yall sing. I don’t need a useless bard wasting my time and squawking away.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem fair. A bard should only ever have to do what pleases him. If he doesn’t want to sing of the Witcher, let him be.” A smooth voice said from behind Jaskier. _Damnit, what was with everyone bringing up Geralt today, and even worse that choice of words,_ Jaskier tried not to wince.

He slowly turned in his seat to look at the man speaking. It was clear from the way he was dressed and the way he held himself that he wasn’t one of the villagers. Jaskier didn’t recognize him. _Good-- I might not know who he is, but at least I haven’t angered him. I hope._

“Listen, I’m just tryna help the bard. He needs to learn to play what people want.” The innkeeper sniped before shambling off to fill drink orders down the bar, clearly done with this interaction. The man watched the innkeeper walk away before turning to Jaskier. He still wore the easy smile he had on when talking to the innkeeper. Jaskier took note of the beautiful clothing the man wore, not nobility, but not a scruffy farmer either. His embroidered doublet and trousers spoke of wealth. He had to wonder what a man dressed like that was doing around here.

“Thanks, but I don’t want any trouble. I’ll just be going.” Jaskier babbled, rising from his stool. He wasn’t really interested in a partner for the night. He had just wanted to relax at the inn and figure out where to go next. 

“I can assure you, you have in no way offended me, Master Jaskier,” the man replied. “But please, won’t you stay? I will pay for your drink, maybe some food as well?”

“I’m flattered, but the charity is unnecessary.”

“Well now it seems it is my turn to apologize,” he chuckled, “I meant no offense. Please forgive me; being in the presence of such a renowned master of the musical arts has caused me to forget my manners,” the man replied cordially. “I’m Leon. I am here on behalf of my Lady. She truly wishes to speak to you, and I have come with an offer that I think you will greatly enjoy. Please, won’t you sit and have a drink?”

_What the hell,_ Jaskier thought, _not like I'm getting many other offers these days._

“All right, one drink and some food sounds agreeable for listening to this offer - you obviously traveled some distance to bring me,” Jaskier replied as he headed for a table off to the side of the tavern. 

“Many thanks, Master Jaskier, my Lady will be happy to hear it,” Leon said as he approached with the promised food and ale. “She has much regard for your talent and skill as a bard. The way you weave tales of the Witcher into things people actually enjoy....it is awe-inspiring.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere Leon, though you might favor a lighter hand next time. How about you jump right to it before the food gets cold?” Jaskier asked as he pulled a plate and tankard towards himself, settling in for what was sure to be an offer from a pompous noble wanting him to sing at their third son’s wedding or something equally ridiculous. 

“Right, of course. I’m sure you have many offers vying for your attention,” Leon had that smooth smile on again. Something about it, now that Jaskier was looking at him, seemed off. Maybe it was just exhaustion from Leon’s traveling. He couldn’t have been easy to track with his aimless wandering. More aimless now than ever, without even the Witcher’s bounties to chase. It made Jaskier wonder how the man had managed to track him down when even Jaskier didn’t know where he was, or where he was going. 

“My lady wishes to offer you a place in her house. She has a vision she would like to share with the world! Unfortunately, Milady needs the aid of someone who can tell stories the people want to hear to do so. All of us that reside in her home believe in her vision; it is true and noble. We wish only to share it - and what better way than through song?”

_Well...that doesn’t sound ominous at all_ , Jaskier thought, thankful for his years of performing that allowed him to keep his face in what he hoped was a mostly neutral expression.

“I realize that I might not have been the best choice to explain, but I strive to prove myself to my Lady, and this is my chance. I beg you, please come speak to her, she will explain everything. My Lady is very generous. She wants to see you rise to your full potential, Master Jaskier. She will give you so much to sing about,” Leon rambled. He looked so eager to convince Jaskier to see things his way, but also nervous.

“Listen, Leon, I am deeply flattered that your great, nameless Lady wants me so badly, but I am not looking for a position on a court. The road is where I belong.” Jaskier almost felt bad for turning the man down. He was clearly just trying to complete his Lady’s mission so that he could go home. “I’m sorry she sent a messenger to chase me across the continent, I couldn’t have been easy to find.”

“I’m not Lady Maja’s messenger, sir. I am one of the mages that reside at the Laska manor. She would never disgrace you by sending someone so below your status to ask you to come see her.”

“What? She sent a mage to come and talk to me? That seems a waste of your power, doesn’t it?” Jaskier was shocked that some noble he had never heard of would send a mage to deliver a message. What kind of court was this Lady Maja running? She must have money to throw around... maybe he could work this in his favor. Spend a couple of days pretending to decide if he wanted to take the offer and enjoying all the luxury of her manor before a respectful declination. Not the worst plan he ever had. And it wouldn’t be the first manor he’d have to escape if it came to that. 

“No, no, I was quite happy to have the chance to fulfill this request of my Lady. I can understand your hesitation, so I have acquired a room for you tonight. I hope that you will think it over and in the morning if you wish, I will portal us both to her estate so that you may speak with Lady Maja.” Leon placed a key on the table as he spoke. 

“I will sleep on it and meet you back here in the morning,” Jaskier replied. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head to my room for the night and ponder all you have told me.” 

“I will see you in the morning, Master Jaskier. Sleep well.” Leon said from the table as Jaskier headed for the stairs. 

He was going to enjoy having a real bed for the first time in what felt like months. But it wasn’t only the bed that had Jaskier’s spirit up, he was going to get to spend some time relaxing at a manor for a couple of days enjoying the lavish attention of a pompous noble. This might just be exactly what he needed to remind himself that he could survive on his own. Screw that damn Witcher. He didn’t need him or his monster hunting to prove he could succeed as a bard. 

\------

Jaskier woke to the sun on his face through the smudged window of his room. The last couple of months falling asleep without hearing Geralt’s cursed words had proven nearly impossible. The exhaustion must finally be catching up to him — he had been traveling for quite some time. It would be nice to settle down, if only for a couple of days. What was the worst that could happen? 

After a quick scrub courtesy of the cold washbasin and a change of clothes, Jaskier was ready to head down to breakfast. 

“Good morning Master Jaskier,” Leon hailed from his table where two steaming plates waited. “You look well-rested. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” Jaskier responded, settling in and pulling his plate closer to himself. “Listen, Leon, I have thought about Lady Maja’s offer, and I see no reason that I shouldn’t at least hear what she has to say.”

“That is wonderful news, Master Jaskier! I can assure you that my Lady is very generous and she has a great appreciation for music. I think you will find that her offer will be very much to your liking.” Leon had that smile on again as he spoke. Leon’s tone had a lilt to it that seemed to aim for comforting but continued to miss the mark, sounding off and almost unnerving. His hands placed in front of him on the table at all times. He seemed happy enough about Jaskier accepting the offer, but aside from his words he certainly wasn’t showing it. “Oh, but please do finish your breakfast before we go. There is no need to rush.” 

“Umm... I just need to grab my things from my room, and I guess we can be on our way,” Jaskier mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. He couldn’t help but keep an eye on Leon as he spoke - something about his mannerism seemed just outside the boundaries of normal...then again, Jaskier hadn’t met many mages. Yennefer had been strange as well. Maybe this was on par. 

“Truly wonderful, I will meet you outside after you have collected all your things.” 

\-------

“I have to admit Leon, that was not what I was expecting,” Jaskier quipped woozily. Leon, true to his word, had waited right outside the tavern as Jaskier collected his things. He opened a portal for the two of them to what Jaskier could see was a sprawling yard. This being his first time traveling by portal, Jaskier had honestly not known what to expect, he hadn’t even thought to ask, in awe of the blatant display of powerful magic that hadn’t even seemed to be more than a thought for Leon to cast. The sudden wave of nausea and dizziness that crashed into him as soon as his feet touched the gravel leading to the house made him reconsider this as a successful means of travel, though. 

“Forgive me, Master Jaskier. I did not realize that the portal would affect you so. Let me show you inside so you may rest before speaking to Lady Maja. I will have someone take your things to your room for you.” Leon responded, grabbing at Jaskier’s arm to steady him when he started to sway. He could only imagine that he must have been the most unattractive shade of green as nausea rolled through him. Jaskier was thankful for Leon’s arm around him as he led them up the house, not sure his wobbly legs could have carried him that far on their own. Leon dropped their bags right inside the front door, leaving Jaskier with his lute. Something for which he was thankful, as he would have had to try to run around this place looking for it in the event he needed to make a quick getaway. 

Leon led him deeper into the mansion to an outlandishly furnished sitting room, all plush velvet furniture in purples and blues. The heavy drapes over the windows blocked most of the light, with the fireplace providing the rest. He placed Jaskier down on an aubergine chaise that faced a truly ostentatious chair made of dark wood and what looked like several shades of blue velvet. 

“I will let lady Maja know you are waiting for her and send someone up with some refreshments for you, Master Jaskier,” Leon said as he headed out of the room shutting the door behind him. 

Sitting quietly in one place had never been Jaskier’s strong suit; he needed to move around, talk, fill the silence. As the dizziness passed he got up, setting his lute next to the chaise, and explored the room he now found himself in. The shelves on the far wall were littered with the kind of meaningless knick-knacks and trinkets you would find in most noble homes. Nothing notable in the books and painting over the fireplace either - just a portrait of the ocean. This “Lady Maja” had an unusual taste in room decor, sure, but no worse than any other noble across the continent. 

“Ok, off to a good start. You’re shut in the room of a noble’s manor and you’ve learned nothing,” Jaskier sighed to himself. 

“Do you always talk to yourself like that, sir?” Jaskier jumped, turning to a petite young girl giggling from the doorway with a tray laden with tea and cakes. 

“Of course, all the time my dear. I am a bard, and we tend to be a loud and rambunctious sort,” Jaskier responded sweetly to her. _Always befriend the servants - they know what’s really going on in these manors,_ he thought to himself. 

“I must admit I was most excited to meet you, Master Jaskier. Leon sent these refreshments for you.” The girl responded as she placed the tea and pastries on a low table between the lounge and the chair. “Lady Maja will be so pleased that you are here. She has wanted to speak to you for a long time. Please do forgive the wait, she will be with you shortly.” 

“I assure you it is no problem, this is already much nicer than anywhere I have been in a while and I admit I am looking forward to meeting this mysterious Lady Maja,” Jaskier knew that it sounded like he was digging for information but he had so little on this mysterious woman that he couldn’t help it. 

“Thank you, sir. We work hard to keep the manor up to our lady’s standards. But I can assure you Lady Maja is most generous and kind. Her ideas deserve to be spread; they are noble and true.” 

“Yes, so I’ve heard. Leon said something very... similar,” Jaskier replied quizzically. It wasn’t just similar, they were precisely the same words Leon had used at the tavern the night before. It was hard to tell if these people honestly believed the words or if Lady Maja had trained them to say them.

“Please excuse me, sir. There is always much to do around here,” the girl said, giving a low curtsy as she spoke, before turning and heading out the door. 

“Huh, well this surely can not get any stranger,” Jaskier muttered to himself. 

Falling back onto the chaise, he decided he might as well try to enjoy the food before him. Fresh floral tea and fluffy pastries decorated the elegant silver tray the servant girl had brought for him. The tea was sweet but not overly so, and like nothing Jaskier had ever had before. It’s soothing flavor helped relax him from the strangeness of this place. Without even realizing it Jaskier had managed to devour three of the pastries and down two more cups of tea before he heard the doorknob start to turn. Quickly looking at himself to make sure that no crumbs littered his outfit, he rose from his seat. 

Into the room walked a woman dressed in an elegant, lilac gown - her embroidered hems flowing behind her like plum-colored ribbons. Her dark auburn hair was pinned atop her head in a complicated looking bun. She strode towards him with the grace and confidence of a woman of power- elegance radiating off of her with every step. The swish of her skirts was the only noise in the room as she moved towards him. There was no doubt in Jaskier’s mind that this woman was the mysterious Lady Maja. She came to a stop across the chaise from Jaskier, her dark grey eyes shimmering and a pleasant, courtly smile on her lips. Jaskier would admit that this woman drew his eye so thoroughly that he almost hadn’t noticed Leon had come in behind her. He headed for one of the chairs off to the side of the room. 

“Greetings bard Jaskier, you could not know how happy I was when Leon told me you had agreed to come to visit me.” Lady Maja said, giving Jaskier a small and gracious curtsy. 

“It was my pleasure milady. I could never pass up the chance to meet such a beautiful woman as you.” He replied with a low bow. Flirting was second nature to Jaskier at this point. He knew how to tease egos. 

“Oh, dear bard you don’t have to pretend to have heard of me. In fact, it will please me far more to learn that you haven’t,” Lady Maja responded, moving around the chaise to sit regally in the blue velvet chair across from it. “It will, in fact, just prove why I need you.” She kept her dark grey eyes on Jaskier as she leaned forward to prepare herself a cup of tea. It should have been unnerving, but the shift in her smile from pleasant and courtly to friendly made it easy to ignore. 

“You caught me milady, it is true that I have never personally heard of you. Nor, for that matter, do I know where we are or why I was called here to your lovely estate besides your love of music.” Jaskier responded with his own easy smile, returning to sitting on the chaise lounge. 

“We are in Aedrin, my dear, and you are quite right. I very much appreciate music. But more than that, I appreciate _your_ music.” Lady Maja answered before taking a dainty sip of her tea. 

“Well, it is always nice to meet a fan and even better a beautiful fan such as yourself. I would be more than honored to do a private show for you and your house milady.”

“Your music has always intrigued me. I have been following your songs for quite a long time. The way you took the stories of a monster killer and made them things people want to listen to. To this day, I hear people sing that coin song of yours, and it has been what, more than twenty years since that was written?” Lady Maja responded, brushing aside Jaskier’s blatant attempt at flirting.

A wave of anger burned in Jaskier upon hearing Geralt referred to as a mere monster killer. Despite the heartache and trying to grant Geralt his one wish, Jaskier would still defend that man against anyone that wanted to speak ill of him. Let no one say that he wasn’t loyal. 

“Milady, I can assure you that the Witcher Geralt of Rivia is more than just a monster killer. He is-”

“A god killer.” Lady Maja broke in, smiling at the anger that must have been clear on Jaskier’s face. “Let me assure you, Bard, that I know this will sound strange. What I have to say may anger and confuse you but this knowledge has been passed down through my family for generations and it is time that the world knows it. So please, won’t you allow me to explain why I sent dear Leon to find you?” 

“What?” For the first time since the mountain Jaskier didn’t know how to respond. This woman had just called Geralt a god killer. Jaskier’s mind couldn’t help but race with the possibilities of what that could mean. Had she brought him here as a placeholder for some slight she thinks Geralt caused her? But then why would her people say she was so generous and kind? Was he here to draw Geralt out? He almost snorted at the thought. Geralt didn’t care what happened to him, and Jaskier would never betray his confidence. 

“I assure you I mean you no harm. If what I have to say isn’t to your liking you are free to leave. Leon will gladly open you a portal to anywhere you wish to go.” Lady Maja said calmly. “What do you say Jaskier, will you hear what I have to say?”

“I...I guess I could at least listen since you have been such a gracious host so far.” Jaskier’s mind was still racing with what this could be about, but he was a professional and managed after a moment to push it all down and plaster on his most charming smile. Hoping it didn’t look as forced as it felt.

“Wonderful!” Lady Maja gave a little clap that could have passed for excitement if it wasn’t for the fact her face never changed from that overly friendly smile. “Leon, go fetch my book, just in case.” Jaskier had again forgotten the man was even in the room with them until he rose to complete his assigned task.

“Milady, I must ask why did you call Geralt a god killer? What does that even mean?” This was the question that had been most present in his mind, the words ringing around since she had first said them. What did that even mean? He refused to stay in the house of someone that would speak ill of Witchers. Not after all the work he had put into making Geralt’s reputation better. As hated as that effort had turned out to be, Jaskier didn’t regret it. 

“How best do I explain this?” Lady Maja started leaning forward to set her cup back on the low table. “Haven’t you ever wondered why people flinch at the mere sight of a Witcher? Why they curse his name and chase him from their towns? It is not because he is different, nor because of his eyes or scars. It is because of what he does; on some level, people know the gods cursed that man.” Jaskier wanted to cut in, opened his mouth ready to tell her Geralt wasn’t cursed. Unless she knew something, he didn’t. “Please let me finish, then I will answer any questions that you may have.” Lady Maja’s smile turned from friendly to pointed. She was clearly waiting for Jaskier to give his assurance that he would not interrupt. Snapping his mouth shut and giving a single sharp nod to her, Jaskier leaned back on the chaise and decided he might as well let her get it all out. 

“The monsters Witchers hunt and kill are the Children of the Gods. There is no other way to explain the power these so-called monsters possess. They can do things humans only dream of. Even mages do not possess the same skills and abilities as the Children of the Gods. 

They were put here to protect us and guide us on our path, but somewhere along the way, we forgot that. Why one day we suddenly decided to strike out against them, I will never know. But can you not see the moment we struck down the first Child of the Gods they started to punish us. We have been left to suffer in the God’s anger at us. Every time one of those abominations strikes down a Child the Gods punish us. Famine, suffering, war, these are things people pray against and yet our prayers go unanswered.” 

“We should be offering them tribute. Praising them and begging them to forgive us for all we have done. But instead, humanity created true monsters. Creatures that go against the very nature of all we know. Chaos and abilities forced on stolen children trained to do nothing but kill, a handful of coins for the wrath of the gods as they weep the death of their own. 

“It is disgraceful! We have truly fallen from grace. I prayed that they might show me a way to bring this knowledge to the people that need it most so they might not fall victim to those god killers again. So that they might follow the true path that was placed before us. And here you are, Bard Jaskier having followed one of those creatures around for so long you know what they are capable of. You have seen the hatred first hand. You who sung the praise of a man cursed by the gods themselves and made people listen. That skill is beyond impressive, imagine the good you could do if you turned that ability to writing songs that would make the gods proud. That would remind people of the way things should be.”

Lady Maja spoke with such passion and energy that Jaskier felt like he was being pulled into her story. But that’s all it was, it couldn’t be true, Geralt killed monsters to save people. If he wasn’t there people would die. 

“Milady, forgive me, this story of yours is truly original but if we had no Witchers people would die. The Witchers protect us from monsters. They attack travelers and kill people,” Jaskier questioned. 

“Do they truly? Or do people attack them first? If we merely left them be they would not attack us. But humans are so greedy; we are encroaching on their lands, always wanting more for ourselves. All the blood the Children spill is on the humans that harm them,” Lady Maja responded. She had a look of pleasure on her face at the fact that Jaskier was asking. “You have seen many of the Children up close in your travels with that Witcher. If they wanted to kill us all could they not just do that?”

“Ok...well surely not all monsters are Children of the Gods? What of Striga, Wraiths, Dopplers?” Granted, Jaskier had only heard the stories of these fights after the fact but he still knew a good bit about how they came to be. 

"Of course not. They are human monsters. The gods are creative in the ways they punish us for every death of their children. Werewolves, Striga, Wraiths, they are the creations of human suffering and proof of how far we have fallen. What next will the gods create to punish us if we continue to act in the way we are?” Lady Maja answered. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure what to make of all this. Surely it was just a story or a bizarre and ill-thought-out joke. There was no way anyone could actually believe that monsters were sent here to protect humanity and were the Children of the Gods. Jaskier didn’t want to believe it, but he had heard stories from Geralt of monsters that didn’t hurt people unless attacked first. He knew that Wraiths and Werewolves were humans past all their abilities unlike Griffins or Kikimora. He didn’t know what to think. What if she was right? He had always believed that people opposed Geralt because he was different with his unnatural eyes and abilities. Was it so unbelievable that maybe there was more to it than that? 

“Leon, excellent timing, did you bring my book?” Lady Maja said. Her voice was enough to shake Jaskier from the deep confusion on all he was being told and asked to believe. 

“Of course, Milady,” Leon answered as he approached the table between them, moving aside the long-forgotten tea and pastries in favor of placing a heavy and ancient-looking book. 

“Jaskier, this book has been in my family since before anyone can truly remember. It will prove to you all I am saying. It tells stories of villages from long ago that worshiped the Children of the Gods, they prospered in ways that no man can claim today. It tells stories of people treating the Children the way we were meant to, offering them tribute and respect, and being blessed for following the true path. If you wish to go through it and read for yourself the truth of my words. I understand that I have given you much to think about, but I must ask you first, can you see the truth in my words even a little?” Her question seemed so sincere. She honestly wanted to know if he believed her. 

“I don’t know. You sound so sure of this milady, but I just find it more than a little mind-boggling.” 

“I expected nothing less dear, bard. You will not be the first I have told all this to that needed time to come to realize its truth. I only have a few more things I wish to discuss with you then you may retire to your room with this book if you so wish, and I will assure no one bothers you, aside, of course, to bring you food.” Lady Maja seemed to relax back in her chair again, clearly pleased with his response. 

“More about the monsters of the world? I’m not sure if I will be able to handle that.” Jaskier said with a quiet chuckle. His life could not get any stranger. 

“No, no more about the Children today. Instead, I wanted to ask you about your Witcher. Surely he must have appreciated all the effort you put into changing people’s view of him. You made his life much easier. But I wonder why are you not with him now? You traveled together for many, many years did you not?” Lady Maja had that pleasant smile back on her face, she appeared as though she already knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it and confirm.

“No, he did not appreciate my efforts strictly speaking, but I didn’t just do it for him. I did it for the adventure. I did it for the fame and those songs I made about him have made me quite famous.” Jaskier defended angrily, he didn’t appreciate being reminded that he and Geralt had never truly been friends according to the Witcher. Much less that he would never return his feelings. “As to why we are not traveling together anymore, well milady, we had a bit of a falling out.”

“Of course, a falling out. I like to think I am a smart woman, Jaskier. So let me hazard a guess as to what you truly mean. He was cruel to you, I hope not violent, though. He never acknowledged your feelings or needs, and possibly worst of all, he never thanked you for all you did for him. Am I close?” 

“I-I...how?” Twice in one-day Jaskier was struck silent in shock. 

“Well, when you are cursed by the gods and your life is suffering you take that anger out on those that never deserved it. You worked so hard to make his life better, Jaskier. Did he deserve it? Think about this instead, sing about this truth, sing about all I have told you and all you will come to find out from my book. In exchange, I will give you the respect you deserve, and protection from any that would act against you. Are these not things you would want little bard? Do you not deserve to be loved and respected?” This was it; the actual offer that had brought him here in the first place. A chance to sing for a woman that would treat him well and adore him for his singing. Granted, the idea of being protected and having people that respected him for his abilities was also appealing. 

“Milady, if I may?” Leon interjected for the first time since placing the book down. “I think the bard may need some time to think about your offer. If you would allow it, I would show him to his room. He is more than welcome to seek me out if he has any questions, and you are busy.”

“I think that is a wise choice, Leon. Please do show Jaskier to his room, have a bath drawn for him. Is this agreeable with you, Jaskier?” 

“Yes, um, yes, milady. I think a bath and a night to think will serve me well.” Jaskier was trying to remain polite and courteous, but with all this new knowledge making him question all he knew it was admittedly hard. 

“I hope that you will enjoy your stay here, Jaskier. Please feel free to come to find me with your answer whenever you are ready. Everyone in this house will treat you kindly and you have nothing to fear here.” Lady Maja said, rising from her seat. The gentle swishing of her skirts was the only noise in the room again as she left. 

“Master Jaskier, If you would please follow me to your room,” Leon announced from his side as he slid the book off the table and headed towards the door.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good morning Jaskier, I was starting to wonder if we would ever see you again. If not for the maids telling me that your trays had been emptied, I might have started to worry.” Lady Maja said, gazing up from her cup of tea as she noticed Jaskier enter the room. “Won’t you join me?”

“Thank you, Lady Maja. I must say your accommodations have been more than I was expecting.” Falling back on to the kind of flattery that had gotten him far with nobles in the past — seemed like his best choice right now. 

“Please Jaskier, you may call me Maja. My title will serve me no good in trying to win you over.” Maja smiled at him, waving to one of the maids on the far side of the dining room to bring a meal for him. 

“Right, I guess that is fair. La-. . . Maja, but I’m still not sure why you called me here. You said you wanted me to sing. But then you told me all these things and gave me your book, and I read it many times and I just don’t understand how this can’t be common knowledge — how do people not know about this, how is this not something everyone is taught?” Jaskier said in a rush, too many thoughts in his head trying to flood out at once. 

“Oh my, well to start why don’t you take a seat and we can talk?” Maja laughed, waving to the chair directly across the table from her. 

“Forgive me, milady. It just has been a lot to take in these last couple of days.” 

“None of that, my dear. I told you, you will not be the first to see the truth and need time to accept it.” Maja responded with a gentle smile, as a maid finally arrived to place a steaming plate in front of Jaskier. “You see I was raised on this truth, my family has passed that book down since before we even knew how it came to be in our possession. It has been our blessing and our curse.”

“Has no one ever tried to share this before? Are there others that know the truth?” Jaskier asked. It couldn’t be that just this one family knew this world-changing secret.

“My great-great-grandfather tried to share the truth with others. They called him a lunatic and threw him from their cities. As for others, maybe in the past, there might have been, but they are gone now. As far as I know, I am the last who was raised on this truth,” Maja answered. For the first time real emotion crossed her face, she seemed genuinely sad that she was the last to bear the book and its not insubstantial weight. “After his rather disastrous attempt to educate the world it was decided by the rest of the family that we would wait for a sign. So we started to build up our fortune. This house and all you see in it represent decades of waiting for the right time. That time is now Jaskier, you were my sign. My prayers answered. It is time to change the world.”

She couldn’t be serious, Jaskier was just a bard, a background character in others stories. How was he supposed to help her change the world? What good would his music do? They needed scholars and nobles to see this book. All of Oxenfurt needed to come to study it to spread the word and have it taught to everyone. “That’s very flattering milady, but I’m no one’s answered prayer. I’m just a bard.”

“Just a bard? You are a bard that changed the fortune of a cursed man. Your god killer could walk into a town and no longer fear a stoning after that Toss a Coin song came out. You have the power to sway people. You have sung for kings and courts across the lands, and for peasants in their taverns. You are a man of the people no matter who they are.” The conviction that gleamed in Maja’s grey eyes was like fire. She truly believed that Jaskier was the answer. As unbelievable as that still seemed to him. 

“I’m still not sure how I feel about you calling Geralt a god killer. I promise he really isn’t that bad,” Jaskier responded sheepishly. “Surely, you must know that Geralt would have no way of knowing any of this.”

“No, Jaskier, I do not care that he doesn’t know. He is a god killer, whether he chose it or not. I would not wish death upon him, but he needs to be stopped. How can you still be so loyal to him? I assume from all you didn’t say about your falling out that it was less than kind.” Maja squinted at him, confusion evident in her eyes. 

“Ah, well...no it was not necessarily kind, but Geralt is a good man. I trust him with my life.” In the face of that kind of conviction, what did Jaskier have to offer about Geralt? He was a good man but he was also grumpy, set in his ways, and sometimes cruel. 

“You may trust him with your life, but would you trust him with your heart? Would you trust him with the truth? If I sent someone to find him and bring him here right now, would he accept the truth of the Children of the Gods?”

Well clearly and sadly there was only one answer to both of those questions. Jaskier had hidden his own truth from Geralt for more than a decade. He had watched him chase after Yennefer despite the pain it brought him. He had listened to Geralt talk, as infrequently as it was, about the Path and Witchers. Jaskier knew that even if Geralt was here if he had seen the book and heard Maja’s speech he would not believe her. As hard as it was to think about, it was true. Geralt would think she was crazy and would want to leave without hearing the whole story, without even glancing at her book. 

“I can see the cogs turning in your mind. I’m sorry to be so harsh Jaskier, but I have protected this truth my whole life. I need you to see that it is important. I need you.” Maja reached across the table to grab Jaskier’s hand as she spoke. Her grey eyes clear when Jaskier looked up from the table into them — she wasn’t lying. She really did believe she needed him. No one had ever said they needed Jaskier before. 

“I still don’t understand what you could need from me.”

“Your voice, dear bard. Your skill with music. I want you to create songs that people want to listen to. Songs that will teach them of the Children. I will give you everything you need to complete this task— protection, money, clothing. . . anything.” Maja spoke softly, still holding onto Jaskier’s hand from across the table. “The people here at my estate all believe in this truth wholly. They want to see it spread as much as I do, and I hope you do too.”

“How can you offer me protection? Would I not be staying here to write my songs?” Jaskier hated to admit it, but he knew that he would agree to help her. This was too big a secret to keep from the world, and if she thought a song would be what would change people's views then who was he to disagree. 

“You cannot keep a songbird caged and happy. You are a traveling bard, I want you to travel and sing to all the people. Every peasant and noble, every tavern and castle that will listen. Of course, you will always have a place here to return should you need it.” Maja finally released Jaskier’s hand as she waved hers about. “As for the protection, well, I have one more thing I should tell you, Jaskier.”

“What more could there possibly be? You have already changed my view of the world as I had known it.” Jaskier said with a half joyous, half anxious laugh. Hoping that this would not be another massive secret thrown upon him as the last one was. 

“I have many people under my care. They all stay here unless I need them to complete a task for me. You have met Leon, he is one of eight mages that I have shown the truth to and who have come to stay here to aid me. Along with most of the servants of the house and several merchants that travel and bring back news of the world to me. We call ourselves the Legacy of Truth. I am the leader of this group and you, Jaskier if you wish to join, will be by my side. I see no one better to lead with me. I would only ask one thing of you besides your skill with music.” Maja sat back regally in her chair. Again she was waiting for Jaskier to agree, but she hadn’t told him what the condition of joining her group was. What could she possibly ask of him that would be worth that kind of exchange of power?

“This offer is the most tempting one I have heard in a long time, milady. How can I pass up the chance to bring the truth of the Gods to the people? To sing of a secret forgotten to time. What condition would you have me meet? ” as he spoke Jaskier knew this was playing with fire, but the warmth of it was too inviting to ignore. It felt like he was about to agree to something that would forever change him, something too big to fully understand. But maybe this was it, maybe this was what he was always meant to do. What better job could there be for a bard than to tell a story?

“Never sing of your god killer again. The songs that made you famous. . . forget them. You have the Legacy of Truth to think of now. You will have songs that people want to hear. No, that they _need_ to hear. Forget him, Jaskier. You will be better off if you push him and that part of your life from your mind.” Maja’s grey eyes stared deep into Jaskier as she spoke. He knew instantly that if he did not agree to this condition that he would not be allowed to stay. To stay in this place where he was told he was needed, where he would be respected and cared for because of his skill. His songs would bring him love and glory among Maja’s people. 

But could he do it? Could he really just throw away twenty-two years of his life? The songs that made him famous, brought Geralt comfort and glory? Of their adventures and friendship, that had gotten them through the toughest of times. 

_‘If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands.’_ Unwarranted and suddenly, Geralt’s words lanced him from the deepest reaches of his memory. He had almost forgotten them in all that had happened over the last few days. All he had learned and been shown had shaken the ghost of them from his mind. With them came the reminder of Geralt’s face on the mountain, the anger that had radiated off of him as he threw away their friendship, whether he acknowledged it as such or not. If Geralt could so easily throw him away, then why couldn’t Jaskier do the same? Why should he have to suffer when he was so clearly just a burden and a nuisance to Geralt? With Maja and her group, he could grant Geralt his blessing and give himself one too so that they would never have to see each other again. 

“Yes. I can do that. I will never sing them again, no bard worth their salt wants to be known for only one thing anyway.” Jaskier smiled at Maja as he agreed to her condition. It was his first real smile since he had gotten here, perhaps his first genuine smile since that godsforsaken mountain. Already he felt lighter for not having given Geralt the power to still hurt him even in his absence. Already this felt right. 

“Welcome to the Legacy of Truth Jaskier. Together we will change the world.” Maja said as she rose from her seat, stretching her hand forward for him to shake, which Jaskier did happily. 

\-------

"You look comfortable," Maja said as she entered the garden. 

"Songs take time to write and I have not had the chance to write in comfort such as this in a long time" Jaskier responded from his place at one of the tables under a blooming apple tree. "You wouldn't want me to only go out into the world with only one or two songs to my name, would you?"

"Of course not, but it never hurts to inquire about your progress," Maja said as she sat in the seat across from him. Over the last month that he had been here, he had noticed she had dropped the courtly, regal persona he had seen when he arrived and become a more relaxed, informal woman around him. The change had been exciting to watch, at the beginning of it, Jaskier had wondered if it was because she had gotten what she wanted. But now he thought it was because she was actually just relaxed around him. Together they were going to complete her plan, which he helped her refine. 

"Your book is providing me with many, many ideas and a wealth of information."

"Hmm," Maja responded, the noise making Jaskier clench his jaw. She couldn't know that that noise was one he had to listen to from across a campfire most nights. The only response he got most days as he begged for scraps of attention from the man that once was his muse. 

"Did you need something from me? Or did you just come to watch me compose?" Jaskier snapped. As soon as he realized the tone he had taken with Maja, he quickly took a couple of deep breaths forcing himself to relax. "Forgive me. Composing is always a stressful thing."

"I'm sure," Maja said, giving him a look that clearly stated, ‘I know it's not the composing that's got your hackles raised, but I choose not to ask’. "I didn't truly need anything. Just came with some news from one of the mages that just returned."

"Oh? What news have they brought to us now?" Since arriving, Jaskier had had a chance to meet most of the mages and servants of Laska manor. Talking to them had certainly helped him understand Maja and how she truly cared for her people. The only ones he had yet to meet were the merchants, they only returned a couple times a year, apparently. Maja hadn’t lied to him, everyone was here for the truth, they believed in it wholly and wanted to see her, and now Jaskier’s plan succeed. 

"Nilfgard has taken Cintra. The queen and the royal family have fallen. Another war caused by humanity's greed and stupidity. Our suffering is so great I hope that when people know the truth, the gods will forgive us our sins,” Maja said with a shake of her head. “If they don’t, I’m not sure how much longer we will survive.”

“Nilfgard took Cintra? I’m sure Calanthe must have put up quite the fight. She was always so prideful, so sure of her abilities. It's a shame to hear that she passed. You know I was in Cintra once more than a decade ago.” Jaskier responded thoughtfully, it was strange that he could think about that night and not ache. He no longer craved to be by the Witcher’s side. He had released himself from his burden in finding his purpose here. “Pavetta’s betrothal party. What a mess that turned into. Calanthe forbade me from coming back to the city ever again.” 

“Mm...What happened?” Maja asked, head resting on one hand as she watched him scribble song ideas. 

“I told you, dear Maja it was a mess. Just one catastrophe after another. All ending in a pile of shit being shoveled,” Jaskier answered with a sneer. “Why does it matter? This doesn’t change the plan at all. It might even end up helping us. There was no way we could have gotten a foothold in Cintra, and now we don’t have to worry about it.”

“Well dear bard, I would have never expected you to be so cold-hearted about the fall of an entire country, did Calanthe hurt your feelings that badly?” Maja teased, head still resting in her hand as she gave him a playful pout. 

“Maybe she did, dear Maja, in rejecting me, a renowned bard of unknown measure, from her country,” Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh at his own words, he didn’t care that Calanthe had kicked him from Cintra. At the time, he had only been worried about Geralt and wondering why on earth, after the mess he had seen, he would claim the law of surprise. He wondered in passing if the little cub of Cintra had survived. If Geralt had ever gone back for them. Had he finally pulled his head out of his ass on at least this one thing? But it was only a passing thought, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to the child, he just felt bad that they had been bound to the Witcher. “It is a shame that Cintra fell, but there was nothing we could have done for them. Calanthe was too prideful to accept help. Even if you had had the means to do it.”

“I had never met Calanthe, so I will take your word for it. Do you think this will change your plans at all for when you leave?” Not the most graceful subject change, but Jaskier was thankful for it nonetheless. 

He hadn’t much thought about where he wanted to start his journey once he had enough songs to go out. He knew he should probably start at a court — getting more powerful people on their side would help their cause. But the idea of having to play politics was less appealing than ever before. Maybe he could start with the common folk in taverns. Let word trickle up to the kings and queens, make them thirst for answers. He had nothing to fear from them, Maja and her mages would come for him if something happened, and if they couldn’t… well he would be the martyr for the truth. What a way to be remembered. 

“I haven’t decided yet. I have been more preoccupied with coming up with songs than where I will sing them,” Jaskier answered, it was mostly true seeing as they hadn’t fully discussed what would happen when he did leave. Maybe he could talk her into letting him bring Leon along. The companionship would be nice and he could probably get used to traveling by portal if he had to. 

\----------

“Have you got everything you need, Master Jaskier?” Leon asked from beside him. It was finally time, after six months at Laska estate, he had a dozen new songs to his name and a mission to complete. It was time to get back to what he loved; singing. Not that he hadn’t tested his songs in front of the mages and servants, but they were a little biased. 

He would always be thankful for the months he spent at the manor, he had never felt so loved and respected. Every person cared about him and wanted to see him do well. No one disparaged his songs, told him to shut up, or told him he was shoveling shit on them.

“Yes, Leon, I’m sure and it's not like we can’t come back here if we have forgotten something,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes at his new travel companion. It hadn’t taken as much convincing as he thought it would to get Maja to agree to let Leon come with him. And Leon was happy to fulfill any request given to him by either of them. 

“Of course sir, I only ask because I know how much you dislike traveling by portal,” Leon responded, hefting his pack up on to his shoulder and reaching for Jaskier’s as well before his hand was swatted away. “It is good to see you in such high spirits, Master Jaskier.”

“Leon, my friend, I am excited to be getting back to my calling. Singing to the people and the open road under my feet. There is nothing like a crowd applauding your talent,” Jaskier said with a smile as they headed down the gravel path. “I have never felt so full of purpose, like I am doing the right thing.”

“This is wonderful Master Jaskier, it was an honor to be one of the first to hear your new songs. I'm sure the people of the continent will love them just as we have,” Leon said. “So where to first? Anywhere you want to go?”

“Hmmm....how about Posada? Jaskier asked with a sharp smile. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Ciri head to Kear Morhen and Lambert tells a story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is of course Her Sweet Kiss.

“We’ll be stopping at the next village to resupply,” Geralt said to Ciri, as he led Roach. “This is the last village before Kaer Morhen.”

“Can we stay at an inn tonight? I need a bath,” Ciri asked. Geralt knew sleeping in the woods had been hard on the girl, but it was the only way he felt he could keep her safe. Villages had too many wandering eyes, too many people listening, and with Ciri still unable to control her abilities, it was just too risky.

“We should gather supplies and keep moving,” Geralt gruffed. 

“Geralt, we have been sleeping in the woods for weeks and eating nothing but squirrel and rabbit. This is the last chance for a real bed and a bath until we reach Kear Morhen. _Please_ ,” Ciri begged. 

Geralt turned to look at her and tell her no again when he noticed how tired she looked. There were dark circles under her green eyes and a weariness no one her age should have to carry holding her shoulders down. He hadn’t thought he had been that hard on her. He made sure she ate, and was as warm and as comfortable as she could be on the road. 

Suddenly he felt like he had failed her again by not noticing just how much she had been struggling. “One night. We leave in the morning,” Geralt relented. He needed to do better. 

“Thank you, Geralt,” Ciri beamed down at him. 

Sooner than Geralt would like, they found themselves in the middle of the village. The marketplace was bustling with people hawking their wares and bartering for prices. It was a mix of smells and sounds that ground down on what little patience Geralt had. Thankfully no one paid them much mind, this town being one of the better ones when it came to Witchers. Ciri stayed by his side as together they managed to gather food, a warmer cloak for her, and a couple of other things Geralt hoped would make the trip up the mountain easier. 

After stabling Roach for the night and gathering their things, they made their way into the tavern. Geralt headed for a table in the back, Ciri following right behind. She was used to his behavior by now. At least tonight she would be able to enjoy a hot meal that wasn’t cooked over a campfire. 

Geralt was reluctant to admit it but Ciri might have been right; she needed a night to relax. He could already see some of the tension dropping from her. The food, bland as it was, and the warmth of other people were helping to soothe some part of the girl that he obviously couldn’t.

As Geralt raised his tankard, full of piss ale, he looked about the room. No one here seemed outright suspicious, but he had learned to never trust appearances years ago. Most of them appeared to be workers relaxing from their day or travelers getting off the road for the night. As his eyes trailed across the room he noticed one person rise from the bar. A skinny kid, rail thin and not much older than Ciri, strumming away at his lute as he headed for the front of the room. 

_“The fairer sex, they often call it_

_But her love's as unfair as a crook_

_It steals all my reason_

_Commits every treason_

_Of logic, with naught but a look.”_

Geralt clenched his tankard, the wood straining under his fingers. This damn song had been following him since the dragon hunt. 

“Do you not like music?” He hadn’t even noticed Ciri had been watching him as he glared out into the room. 

“Hmm,” Geralt responded. He was unsure of how to answer her. Words had never been his strong suit. 

“Or is it the bard you don’t like?” Ciri continued to ask. “He isn’t the best, is he?”

Geralt thought about not answering, what good would it do to talk about the past? He glanced at Ciri from the corner of his eye, and her curious expression had him reconsidering. She had been good to him. Listening to what he told her and going where he led. But he knew she was desperate to know more about the man that destiny had bound her to.

“I had a bard once. This is one of his songs. He never knew when to shut up. Always got into trouble,” his speech was stilted, but he needed to be willing to open up to her more. He needed to try for her.

“He sang that coin song, right? I've heard that one before, grandmother hated that song. She said it was full of lies,” Ciri responded with a sad smile. The same one she always wore when talking about Cintra. Geralt never knew what to tell her when she remembered her home. He was shit at being comforting. “I’ve never heard this one before. Is it about you?”

“No,” Geralt growled. He was not going to explain what happened on the mountain to her. Jaskier was better off without him. Bringing him up would do neither of them any good. “Finish your food.”

Ciri gave him a look like she wanted to ask more, but appeared to think better of it at the last second before returning to her bland stew. Her inquisitive nature while a blessing on the run from a rampaging army, was a curse for Geralt. He could show her how to wield a sword, how to kill a monster, how to not die on the road. He knew fuck all about how to help her get Cintra back, how to help her control her abilities, or even what she should do next most of the time.

Ciri deserved better, why did he have to ask for the law of surprise? His life was a solitary one. He wasn’t a leader and he needed no followers. Eventually, everyone left him. Hadn’t he proven that already?

He ignored the little voice in his mind telling him how he had hurt Yennefer with his ill-thought-out wish. About how he drove Jaskier away with his words, words he wasn’t actually sure he meant. He had been angry and hurt by Yennefer’s choice to leave, but had Jaskier really been the cause of all his problems? He sometimes caught himself wondering if the two of them were okay. Whether Yennefer had found a new town to conquer or if Jaskier was at a court spinning some story for the nobles and sipping expensive wines in a lavish garden. He liked to imagine that they were safe.

Geralt shook those thoughts away, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about the bard or sorceress. They were better off without him. He had to worry about getting Ciri to Kaer Morhen now. Training her to fight, making sure she survived. 

\-------------- 

“So Lambert, how was your year? Any good kills?” Eskel asked, coming back from the cellar with a cask of ale. It was tradition that at some point every winter they all got uproariously drunk and talked about the past year on the Path. Trying to one-up each other with their stories. It was something that none of them would admit they looked forward to but knew they all did. A chance to just be themselves around people that would never judge them. 

“Course I get to go first! Listen up fuckers cause you're not going to believe this shit.” Lambert started as soon as they each had a tankard in hand. 

“What, you get shorted again? Driven out of another town?” Eskel asked with a self-deprecating laugh. It was a truth they were all used to. People that tried to skip paying when the monster was killed, or driving the “mutant freaks” from their town. Just another part of being a Witcher.

“No, It was weird. So I hear about this little village somewhere in Aedrin. Hear they got a Nekker problem, figure I might as well head that way. Easy money and all that.” Lambert tells, his temper already flaring. It made Geralt wonder what could have been so bad about a Nekker nest that Lambert was reacting so violently. “So I fucking get there. No notice posted for a problem, so I decided to ask. Maybe one of you assholes picked it up.”

Lambert paused to down half his tankard, a deep scowl on his face at the memory of whatever happened. “I see this fucker in town, dressed all nice and shit. Figure he has to be someone important; he probably knows what's going on. Now, this is important, the man was carrying a picnic basket full of food.” Eskel and Geralt shared a look, they both wanted to tell Lambert to get on with it but knew it was best to let him collect his thoughts. 

“I walk up to basket fucker. Even try to be polite about it. Say I heard you got a Nekker problem round here, but I didn't see no notice. This is where it gets fucking weird. He turns to look at me and just straight up screamed, ‘begone GodKiller’-”

“They called you what?” Eskel asked, pausing from taking a drink from his tankard to stare at Lambert. Geralt raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain what that meant. 

“I still don’t know what that means. Sounds pretty badass though, don’t it,” Lambert said with a chuckle. “Now, you going to let me tell the story or fucking not?” Eskel smirked and gave a wave with his tankard, signaling for him to continue. Trust Lambert to be the one to laugh off what was clearly meant to be an offensive slur thrown at him. “Where was I...okay so this fucker screams at me to begone and I back up, last thing I want is to be chased outta another town, and I wouldn’ta even deserved it this time. But the man comes towards me as though I couldn’t touch a hair on his head and starts yelling about how his town has seen “the truth”. That godkillers were not welcome. He started talking bout how the Nekkers protect them from the evils of the world as long as they remember to offer them tribute. He said his village had prospered because of it. Fuck if I wasn’t confused already, but more people had noticed me and basket fucker. They all start moving towards me and this man is still screaming about how the truth will save them and the truth will save all. I got the fuck out of there, if I can help it I’ll never go back there again. Fucking weird town.”

“They were offering tribute to the Nekkers? Like a sacrifice?” Eskel started, a look of confusion clear on his face.

“Hell if I know, I sure as fuck won’t sticking around to find out,” Lambert grumbled, finishing his drink. 

“Hmm,” Geralt didn’t know what to think about the story. Why would a village suddenly decide to start offering tribute to monsters? What “truth” were they talking about?

“You think they were some kind of cult? Sure as hell sounds like it with them spouting all this truth and god killer stuff,” Eskel questioned, a grimace pulling at his scars at the thought of a village that worshipped monsters 

Lambert rose to refill his tankard, ignoring Eskel waving at him as he passed. “I sure as fuck hope this was just some one-time crazy shit. Fuck could you imagine that shit spreading? How many idiots would die trying to offer gold and jewels to a Kikimora or a Wyvern,” Lambert said with a deep laugh, Eskel chuckling along at the idea. 

Geralt gave a snicker at the thought of some fool wandering into a swap to ask a Kikimora to protect their village. “Interesting story Lambert. What about you, Eskel got anything to beat the monster worshiping village?”

\----------

Nights at Kaer Morhen were usually a peaceful affair, full of drinking, roughhousing, and stories of the Path. The Witchers enjoying the only chance they ever got to relax. This year wasn’t much different, they had been given a new purpose in training Ciri, and Geralt could see that his brothers enjoyed having the girl around. She was a quick study with a sword. Taking to the training like she was meant for it. 

But there is one thing about Kear Morhen that Geralt hated. With no threats or contracts to worry about, his mind was full of the thoughts the hardships the Path let him ignore. Even exhausting himself with training and general upkeep hadn’t been enough to banish them from his mind. 

At night in the sanctuary of his room, his mind would wander to Ciri. Was he doing the right thing by bringing her here? This was the only place he considered safe. They would teach her to wield a sword better than any other, but he knew it was not enough to help her learn to control her abilities. She would need a teacher, someone that could help her control her chaos. 

“Hmm,” He glared into the fire as his thoughts led him back to the only person that might be willing to help him train the girl. Yennefer of Vengerberg. He had no right to ask anything of her, he knew that, and Geralt could only hope that her disdain for him would not extend to the girl. 

Geralt paced about his room as he tried to think of anyone else that might be able to help him. He didn’t trust many sorcerers. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Yennefer herself. The last time he had seen her had been atop that mountain — the day he had been forced to confess his wish to her. She had been angry with him and him with her. 

“She had no right. I did what I had to,” he growled to himself. Kear Morhen was the only place he found himself falling back into the old habit of talking to himself. The thick stone walls protecting him from listening ears. 

Geralt threw himself down in the chair in front of the fire, his mind racing with memories of Rinde. At the time it had seemed like the only option to save Yennefer from herself. But maybe he could have done something else? Maybe she had a right to be angry. He had always seen someone like himself in her eyes. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She was too like him, scarred in ways that couldn’t always be healed. Forced to become something they had never expected. He had thought that with her he might be able to make something real, something that could last. Instead, he had bound an unwilling woman to himself and then hidden the truth from her. 

Of course, with the memories of Rinde and the djinn came back the memory of Jaskier. Neck swollen, gasping for every breath. If Jaskier had just listened to him, they never would have met Yennefer. None of this would have happened. . . they would still be traveling together. 

Geralt scowled into the fire at the thought. Jaskier had been the one to walk away from him. Why was he thinking about them traveling together again? 

But Jaskier hadn’t walked away from him, had he? He had been driven away by some of the cruelest words Geralt had ever said to anyone when all Jaskier had ever done was care for him. 

He was always there to wash his hair and offer a helping hand. Always following behind Geralt and Roach, strumming at his lute or humming a melody he was working on. He had proven time and again he cared for Geralt in a way no one else had.

Maybe not in the beginning when he was looking for fame and fortune, but as time passed, even Geralt had to acknowledge the fact that Jaskier was the only other constant in his life besides his yearly returns to Kaer Morhen. He never even acknowledged their friendship. He had used the bard in more ways than he was willing to admit, even if he could justify it as having had a warm body near to fulfill a need they both had. 

That day in Rinde he had been so worried he had taken the one thing Jaskier loved from him; his ability to sing. Even to himself, he had to admit he would have done anything to save him, to make sure that he could keep pestering Geralt for stories of his hunts and his thoughts on his newest song. But Geralt was the one that went back into the house after Yennefer. He didn’t have to do that. Jaskier had even asked him not to. 

Jaskier had asked him not to go on the dragon hunt too. As soon as he had seen Yennefer, Jaskier had known it would be nothing but trouble. 

_“We could head to the coast. Get away for a while.”_ He had basically begged Geralt to leave and what had he done? He had run to Yennefer again. 

_“Just trying to figure out what pleases me.”_ Why hadn’t he seen what Jaskier must have been trying to say? How badly he wanted Geralt to accept him. It was a confession in flimsy wrappings. And what had he done? He turned around and spit back in his face. He had taken that offer of friendship and compassion, the years they had spent by each other's sides, and turned it to ash. 

Was he so much of a monster that he couldn’t acknowledge Jaskier in any way? He couldn’t recall any instance of even calling him his friend. 

Jaskier deserved better than life on the Path, but in the privacy of his room at Kaer Morhen Geralt could admit he missed the bard. He missed the noise he made, the trouble he caused. Jaskier would have known what to say to Ciri. How to comfort her. 

Geralt shook his head again. He really shouldn't be thinking about the bard. He didn’t even know why he was in the first place. 

_Because you love him._ Whispered the little voice in the back of his mind. But it couldn’t be true. He didn't love Jaskier. Sure, he had been scared when Jaskier had gotten hurt after the djinn, and had went with him to the betrothal bouquet with him to make sure he didn’t get hurt, and let him follow him on the road and made sure he was safe. And sure, he had caught food for him and slept next to him when the nights were cold and searched him out in the springs when they were supposed to meet up again and let him come on contracts with him…

“Fuck!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to visit Triss takes an unexpected turn.

“I have to say Geralt. I am not looking forward to spending the winter in a dreary old castle,” Yennefer complained. This was the same argument Geralt had heard for the last two months as the weather started to cool, and they would soon be heading towards Kaer Morhen. “Is there truly nowhere else we could go?”

“No. Kaer Morhen is safe.” Geralt answered with a growl. 

“Always so verbose,” Yennefer replied with a huff and eye roll, that had Ciri falling into a giggling fit next to her. She was used to the way that they bickered by now and seemed to enjoy it. 

Geralt hadn’t been sure how well Ciri and Yennefer would get along in the beginning. Ciri was still wary of new people and Yennefer was...well herself. But to his amazement, they had gotten along like a house on fire. 

One accidental meeting in a tavern and Yen raising her eyebrow at the girl by his side had been all it had taken to get her to agree to travel with them and train Ciri. Though, Yen’s being on the run from Nilfgaard probably aided in that decision greatly. 

It hadn’t been easy to mend things with Yennefer. Over the winter, Geralt realized she deserved to be angry with him and had decided that when they met up again, he would listen to her. And listen he did as she screamed at him for his stupidity, arrogance, and for making this choice for her. He had stood silent outside a tavern weeks after their meeting, listening to her vent more than a decade of hurt to him. 

His silence had only seemed to agitate her. She had pushed him till his back was to the stable and kissed him. But for the first time, he didn’t kiss back and she had broken away with a look of confusion. 

Geralt knew words were not his strong suit. That he had a way of always saying the wrong thing. But he also knew he needed to try, so he did something he had never done before —he talked about his emotions and told her he was sorry. Sorry for binding them together, sorry for not being what she needed, sorry that they had hurt each other. But most of all, he told her that they couldn’t keep hurting each other. They would never be what the other needed. 

Her response had been to laugh, harder than he had ever heard her, and say. “So, you finally figured it out huh?” 

Geralt had stormed off after that, Yennefer still laughing at him as he headed to his room for the night. 

Thankfully things had gotten easier after that. They were able to build a friendship where both of them wanted the best for Ciri. 

Now just a couple weeks out from having to head back to Kaer Morhen to continue Ciri’s training with the other Witchers, they were heading to meet with Triss. Yennefer wanted Ciri to meet her, thought Triss might have some additional insight into ways to train the girl. 

“Don’t worry Yennefer, Kear Morhen is really nice,” Ciri giggled. “As long as you don’t mind the cold and Lambert.” 

“I guess I will just have to resign myself to spending my winter in the company of a pack of grumpy wolves. . . at least I will have you, dear Fiona,” Yennefer said, feigning being put upon to hear Ciri giggle again. 

Geralt huffed at the two of them from atop Roach. They were nearing the tavern they would be staying in and he knew Yen was trying to goad a reaction from him, even if it was for Ciri’s amusement he did not want to give in. 

“Fiona, will you take Roach around? I’m going to go gather some supplies,” Geralt said as he hopped down from the saddle, handing the reins off to the girl. 

“You don’t want me to come with you?” Ciri asked. Her big green eyes staring up at Geralt imploringly. 

“No, you and Yen should rest,” He responded, he hoped she wouldn’t push. Geralt looked towards Yen out of the corner of his eye, hoping she might help him this once. 

“Geralt is right, Fiona. We should rest and wash up before we meet my friend tomorrow. Let the big brute go off and gather his supplies,” Yen responded, placing a hand on Ciri’s shoulder and giving Geralt a very knowing look. 

Yen had noticed right away how he seemed to linger outside taverns listening to the new songs. He always seemed to be listening for a specific voice, one he had still yet to hear. He hadn’t even heard any songs that sounded like they might have been by Jaskier. Initially, she had teased him about his search, humming bars of Toss a Coin as they walked on the road. But she had never asked what had happened to cause Jaskier to not be traveling with him. He assumed it was because she knew the wound was still fresh in his mind, the emotions too new and raw for him to know what to do with them. That teasing had stopped as she had seen his growing concern. Something they seemed to share, for all that she would ever admit to it. 

That concern had continued to grow the longer they had gone without hearing any news of the bard. Even when Geralt did manage to ask about the famous troubadour, no one had seen him. Geralt was willing to admit that he was starting to get worried, and the looks Yen gave him were in no way helping the matter. 

He hoped Jaskier was safe. Maybe he had decided to go to the coast without him. The memory of that conversation still burned. He hoped that when he did find the bard and managed to apologize — for all that, he had no fucking clue how he would do that — that they would be able to finally take that trip together, provided he was forgiven for being an ass and taking his anger out on the bard. 

Geralt pulled his cloak a little higher up on his head as he neared the market place. No reason to draw any more attention than necessary. They had already learned the hard way that there was no place people wouldn’t try to turn Ciri in for the reward. Humanity at its finest. Geralt thought with a deep growl. 

He slowed a little as he heard music from inside one of the taverns nearby, but the voice was far too reedy and wobbly to be Jaskier. Shaking his head quickly Geralt decided to just get this supply run over with and head back to the inn, he could use a bath. 

Geralt sped through the marketplace picking up some salted meat and hardtack — as much as the girls hated the hard, dried meat it would keep well on the trek they would be making up the mountain. At least with Yen around he had been able to take more contracts, not having to worry as much about leaving Ciri unprotected in a village somewhere. So his coin purse was full enough to also be able to afford one of the sweet rolls she liked so much as a treat. 

He was debating buying Yen a sweet roll as well when he heard the humming. A melodious rumble that he felt he would know even half dead. Geralt turned quickly from the stand he was in front of to see where it was coming from. Through the crowd he could just make out a head of dark brown hair, stylishly mussed. 

Before Geralt had even realized it, his feet were following the figure. He couldn’t be sure it was Jaskier till he got a closer look. That had happened before, too many months of searching and longing, causing his mind to mistake strangers for the one person he truly wanted to see. 

The crowd in front of him thinned as they headed for a less reputable part of town. Geralt was able to see that the figure was dressed in a rich green doublet and pants, silver thread at the sleeves. It was too fine an ensemble for an area like the one they were headed toward. Geralt couldn’t help but notice that the lute on the figure's back was not the elven one Jaskier had cared for and loved since the day it had been given to him. The lute this person carried was made of dark wood, and it was not nearly as ornate. 

If this was Jaskier, and he was starting to believe it was — the walk, the humming, the clothing it was all too much for it to be a mere coincidence — then what had happened to his beloved elven lute? 

Geralt continued to follow the possible Jaskier and as he walked he noticed that others had noticed the finely dressed bard as well. A group of men watched as he passed by before pushing off the wall they had been leaning against to start trailing him as Geralt was. 

“Hmm,” Geralt sounded to himself, Jaskier had most likely not noticed the men following him and wouldn’t till it was too late. He moved into the shadows of the building to continue following both parties. This could prove fortunate for Geralt, he could swoop in like the hero Jaskier always believed him to be and rescue him. It wasn’t the best situation, let alone the best plan, for an apology but it might be the best way to prove he cared about the bard, better than him fumbling with his words as he had with Yen. 

Up ahead of him Jaskier suddenly turned off into an alley. The men smiled as they followed.   
Geralt edged his way forward, keeping to the shadows of the buildings towards the two converged parties, listening for anything that might sound like it had come to an altercation. 

“Listen ‘ere bard we don’ need none a yer monster songs around ‘ere.” one of the men barked at Jaskier, who had now turned to face the men. Maybe he had noticed he was being followed, not like these men were trying to hide it. 

So this was about his songs? Jaskier had never taken kindly to anyone speaking ill of the songs about Witchers he wrote. He had taken even less kindly to Geralt being called a monster in his presence and had started many bar fights over his “honor”. Another thing Geralt had never thanked him for. 

“Which song, in particular, do you speak of my good sir?” Jaskier said with a cock of his head and a shit-eating grin. Geralt subtly tensed up for the fight he was now sure this would lead to.

“Ya lil shit. You think we wan’ to be listenin’ to that garbage? Spouting off bout yer so-called…” Suddenly the man that had been heading for Jaskier with fury in his stance was collapsing to the ground. A knife was stuck into his throat, blood pouring from his neck onto the ground, and from behind Jaskier appeared a thin man wielding a short sword. 

He struck down the other two men that had just been staring at their fallen comrade in shock with quick and agile swings of his sword. Slicing one diagonally from shoulder to pelvis and then the other with a quick flick across his neck. Neither man had had time to think about fleeing from the stranger that had entered the fight before they were dead on the ground. Geralt hadn’t even had time to pull his own sword in the short moment it had taken for the man to dispatch the aggressors. But he moved to pull it now as he edged from the shadows, ready to defend Jaskier from a much more significant threat than a couple of street thugs. 

He quickly drew up short though as the man dropped into a low bow aimed at Jaskier. 

“My Liege, you should not be wandering these areas alone. Where is Leon?” the man asked as he rose from his bow. 

What the fuck did he just call Jaskier? My Liege? Geralt thought. He decided to stay hidden for a little longer and see what new trouble his bard had gotten himself into. 

“Oh Mikel, did you think I could not handle them myself?” Jaskier returned, the shit-eating grin he had worn when dealing with the thugs sliding off his face for a look that screamed displeasure at the man in front of him. “Also! What I do when I am away is not your concern. You owe me a new pair of boots Mikel, I had just bought these for my meeting tomorrow.” 

“My apologies sir,” the man, Mikel, said giving another deep bow to Jaskier. “I rode as fast as I could to get here. Milady wants to speak with you right away. She has news about that meeting.”

“Lovely. Pray tell, what does she want now that she had to send you to come to fetch me?” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes. 

What the hell is going on? Geralt couldn’t help but think, had Jaskier found a court to take him in and was now working for them? Suddenly Geralt’s hopes of getting the bard back seemed futile. Jaskier was obviously doing well for himself. 

“She mentioned rumors of the guests coming to visit King Foltest’s mage, sir,” Mikel answered quickly. Geralt perked back up at that, how could this man know that? He knew Triss wouldn’t tell anyone they were coming to visit, and he was almost positive Foltest hadn’t gotten another mage. 

“So the witch did invite the Godkiller and that temptress to come to visit. How very annoying of her,” Jaskier said with a deep sigh. 

What! He could not have just heard Jaskier say those words, the same ones from Lambert’s story over the winter. No! It just couldn’t be possible, not his Jaskier that had followed him for twenty years. Not the Jaskier that had sung his praise and tended to his wounds. This must be an imposter. It would explain the changed lute and air of authority. Geralt was seething, he had to force down his urge to go out there and beat them till they told him where the real Jaskier was, but he needed to know what they were planning first. 

“Well, then there is nothing for us here. Mikel, ride out again and tell our merchants to give Temeria a pass. I want Foltest to feel how wrong he was,” fake Jaskier said as he moved over the bodies in the alley, headed back out to the street. Geralt moved further into the shadows as they got closer. 

As they moved to head down the street, another man dressed in a subtle grey doublet and pants raced up to them. “Oh, Master Jaskier, thank goodness,” this new man panted as he stopped in front of them. “I did not know where you had gone. You know that milady would be most displeased if something happens to you.”

“Leon,” fake Jaskier said with another deep sigh. “I had just gone for a walk, nothing happened. Well, not till dear Mikel showed up and ruined my new boots. Now Leon dear, I need you to open us a portal back to the estate. Thank you for bringing me this news, Mikel, now go.” 

Mikel turned from them both quickly and headed off into the city, as Leon raised his hand opening a portal in the alley fake Jaskier had just left. Both men briskly walking through it into what Geralt could see looked like a lush garden. 

So it doesn’t sound like they had been here for Ciri, Geralt thought as he headed back to the inn. Had they been here for Foltest?

The trip back to the inn didn’t give him nearly enough time to sort out what he had just seen and heard. But there was one thing he did know for sure; there was no way that was Jaskier. 

Jaskier would never throw his lot in with a crazy monster worshipping cult. He had seen Geralt fight those creatures along with the destruction they caused and the lives lost because of them. Jaskier had personally sung of the fights and the scars they left on him. But then who could it have been? A Doppler? Or some spell that was making Jaskier help them? He did have that mage with him, Leon. 

When he came out of his thoughts, Geralt found himself standing outside the inn, still not having figured out how to handle all that had changed in the short time he had been gone. As he headed in, he debated on telling Yennefer about it. She might have some insight into the mage he had seen. The decision was taken from him as soon as he walked into the inn and saw Yen sitting at one of the tables, waving him over. 

“Did you gather your supplies?” She asked, taking a sip of her wine as he sat at the table. Geralt tried to keep the scowl off his face, he knew from her look that he had failed. “So did he reject you, or did you chicken out?”

“Where is Fiona?” Geralt asked instead, he didn’t want the girl popping in in the middle of what he was going to say. 

“Upstairs sleeping. She was more exhausted than she had thought,” Yen answered, her violet gaze was sharp on him, even as she waved down one of the server girls to bring him an ale.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Geralt decided it would just be better to tell her all that had happened. How he had thought he had seen Jaskier in the market, how he had followed him, the men, how they had died, even the names of the two others and briefly the story Lambert had told last winter as an explanation to the godkiller thing. 

“They didn’t mention Fiona, though.” Yen stated, “It sounds like they are either here for Foltest or Triss.”

“Yen,” Geralt growled, as much as he didn’t want to see harm come to either Triss or Foltest, his concern was more aimed at what they should do about Jaskier. 

“Right, your bard, forgive me for being slightly more concerned with the possible regicide,” Yen sniped back. “A spell to control someone and make them go against something they believe in would take a lot of energy and need to be monitored to make sure they aren’t slipping. So that is a possibility if that mage is always with him and even if it isn’t the real Jaskier, getting whatever it is away from its protector should at least get us some answers.”

“We need to find them. Can you track the portal?” Geralt asked, already planning how he would get Jaskier back and what they could possibly need for such a mission. 

“I could provided that not too much time has passed,” Yen said with another sharp gaze. “Geralt, I know you want to get him back, but I think we should stay. You don’t know if they went to this estate they mentioned. But we do have a chance here to warn Foltest and Triss of a possible attack.” 

Geralt had started growling as soon as she had mentioned staying, but he knew she had a point. If they left now and something happened it would be on their heads for not warning them. More than that, they had Ciri to worry about and Yen knew he would not want to take her on a dangerous rescue mission. She had just waited for his brain to remind him of that fact. He forced himself to relax, giving Yen a quick nod to show that he agreed, before heading up the stairs to his room for the night. Sleep wouldn’t be an option with his mind as occupied as it was, but his swords could always use sharpening. 

\------  
“It is a true pleasure to meet you, little princess,” Triss said with a cordial smile as Geralt, Yen, and Ciri entered her study. She had sent word to the inn earlier, saying that they should come in through the servant’s corridors and head straight to her living quarters. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you too, Lady Triss,” Ciri responded. “Yen said you're good at healing. Will you show me?” The girl had been eager all morning to meet another mage, pestering Yen with questions about what Triss might show her and what she was like. 

“Well, I can surely try my dear, But why don’t we chat first and I can catch up on your travels,” Triss’s smile grew as she watched Ciri. She was so clearly endeared to the girl. “Why don’t you tell me about all the places Yen and Geralt have taken you?” 

As Ciri went on a long-winded speech about all the places they had been and all the trouble they had gotten into, Geralt turned to look at Yennefer. He didn’t want to bring up what they had talked about in front of the girl. No need to worry her about something they didn’t have nearly enough information about yet. He had no idea how to tell Triss of what he had heard but was also, naively, hoping that if he mentioned Jaskier she might have heard something. 

He managed to catch Yen’s eye as she was reaching for a cup of tea. She gave him a deep scowl, before casting her eyes to Ciri and then away. So she wasn’t sure how to get the girl away either, And with no idea on when the attack could be happening or if it still was, they would just both have to be on high alert. 

A knock came to the door right as Ciri was recounting a story of traveling through a town in Cidaris that had a siren problem. Triss rose swiftly from her seat to go to the door, only opening it a fraction so that whoever was on the other side would not be able to see her guests. 

The person outside of the door didn’t think anything about this strange behavior. “Lady Triss, the king wishes a word with you.” Geralt heard a young man say. 

“Alright, I will be right there. Thank you.” Triss responded quickly before closing the door in the young man's face. Turning back to look at the three still sitting in her study. “Forgive me, it seems I'm needed right away. I’ll return as soon as I can. Please stay here.” 

Triss quickly departed, this sudden announcement had Geralt at a loss. This could be it, Foltest could have heard of the attack and called Triss to help with preparations. Geralt knew he would not be able to do much if that was the case. He had to protect Ciri first and was already planning the best way out of the castle as the room fell into silence.

Geralt looked up from the floor, not having realized he had been staring holes into the stone as he thought. He looked first to Ciri, who seemed to not realize how tense her guardians had suddenly grown, she was too fascinated by the room and all the herbs and flowers Triss kept about. He turned his head to look at Yen, who’s grip on her teacup had grown noticeably tighter since Triss’s sudden departure. 

The waiting was torture for Geralt, the clash of swoards or a friendly knock at the door could come at any moment it seemed. Thankfully they only had to wait about twenty minutes for the mage to return. She looked no worse for wear, nor did she look worried or frightened, but still, Geralt wouldn't relax until he knew for certain that there was no impending threat. 

“I’m very sorry about that, The king just wanted to let me know the bard that he had asked to come to perform canceled quite suddenly,” Triss explained as she returned to her seat. 

“There was going to be a bard? Were they going to sing about Witchers?” Ciri asked, clearly excited again. 

“Well, not exactly,” Triss said looking up to Geralt suddenly. “This bard has been going around Temeria for months. Foltest had been hearing rumors about his...interesting song topics, and had decided to invite him to the castle to hear the songs for himself.”

“What do you mean?” Yen asked, on edge again at Triss’s noticeable pause to choose her words. 

Triss looked to Ciri for a moment, biting her lip, before she seemed to decide something and spoke again. “The rumor has it that this bard had been singing the praise of monsters. He had been telling people that they should be offering them tribute and that the monsters would protect them.” Geralt felt like there was a bucket of stones in his gut the more Triss spoke. “Foltest was sure the rumors must be false, who would be crazy enough to go around singing about those horrid creatures? I don’t know what happened, but he sent word just a bit ago that he would not be coming. I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad about this news. I had many questions for him if the rumors were true.” 

“Triss, did the bard have a name?” Yen asked slowly. Geralt had never been a man to pray before, but at that moment he honestly considered it, and was ready to offer the gods anything for Triss to not say the name he knew in his gut was in knots over. 

“Jaskier.”

Ciri gasped, and Geralt could have sworn he heard Yen’s teacup crack in her hands, but all he could do was grit his teeth and keep silent. He feared if he opened his mouth now, it would be to scream in anger and frustration. 

“Geralt, you need to tell her what you saw,” Yen said, her voice calm, but her eyes radiating anger and frustration he felt was probably matched in his own. He knew she was right, as much as he hadn’t wanted Ciri to be in the room for all of this, and as much as he hadn’t wanted to lay more weight on her already burdened shoulders, but there really wasn’t a choice.

“I saw the bard in the market yesterday...” Geralt started slowly trying to keep his voice neutral. As he recounted the whole story as plainly as he could, Ciri rose from her seat to come over and sit on the sofa next to him. Over the winter she had managed to get a few stories out of him. And now looking into her deep green eyes he knew she suspected things that he had only recently learned himself. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that Jaskier. I guess I should have known, but it just seemed like it couldn’t have been your bard Geralt,” Triss said with a mournful look. She had listened to the whole story attentively. 

“Is there anything else you can tell us Triss?” Yen asked. 

“Not really, he has been singing around Temeria for a while. I know that he has sung for a couple of nobles. That’s how Foltest heard the rumors. If this is some kind of cult situation then it would make sense that they are trying to get into the pockets of the nobility.” 

“Was there anyone else that was going to come with him tonight?” Geralt refused to call them Jaskier, even if it was truly Jaskier. There was no way that he was doing this willingly. He would fix this no matter what it took, but he needed a plan and right now he didn’t have one. 

“Oh! Yes, there was someone named Leon. He was listed as Jas-” Triss paused as Geralt let loose a deep growl that he had been trying to hold back. “He was listed as the bard’s escort. That's the name of the mage you saw with him isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted in answer. 

“If he has been singing for nobility, then he was probably trying to work his way up to an audience with the king,” Yen pondered aloud. “You need to tell Foltest that he shouldn’t let the bard back into the city, and I think we need to leave.” 

“What?” Geralt glared at Yen. This was their only lead; they should stay here and try to figure out all that they could about this cult and where Jaskier might have gone.

“I think Yen is right, Geralt,” Ciri said mournfully from beside him. “Triss told us all she knows and if they know you are here it could cause problems.” Geralt wanted to be angry at the girl for siding with Yen...but as he looked down at Ciri, he could see how much it had pained her to be the one to try to convince him. The damn girl too smart for her own good, he thought. 

“We can start heading for the keep a little early,” Geralt said begrudgingly. No reason he can’t keep looking while they travel. He knows what to listen for now. 

“I’ll send word if I hear anything else,” Triss said as they all rose from their seats. “I’m sorry I didn't get to show you any healing, Ciri. You will have to come to visit me again.”

Ciri nodded quickly but was clearly not listening, her eyes never leaving Geralt as he grabbed his swords from the floor and swung them over his shoulders. 

“Thank you, Triss,” Yen said with a smile, her first since Triss had been called away. “If you need anything you know how to get in touch with me.” 

“Of course, and you I, be safe please,” Triss said as Geralt shepherded the girls out the door and back towards the corridor they had used to sneak into the castle. They needed to return to the inn quickly and gather their things, get Roach, and get back on the road.

We need to find Jaskier. Geralt thought, He didn't know what happened to his bard but he would figure it out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maja and Jaskier Chat. Geralt makes a plan.

“I have hardly seen you since you returned From Temeria,” Maya said as she approached Jaskier in the yard.

“I worked for months to get Foltest to invite us up to his castle. I was in the city ready to sing for the king and instead, I find out the White Wolf is in town.” Jaskier replied snappishly.

“So it was the Butcher that scared you away,” Maya said thoughtfully.

Jaskier grumbled at her for the Butcher comment, even though he had moved on from Geralt some part of him still didn’t like the idea of the man being called the Butcher. Geralt didn’t know that he had been doomed and cursed against his will.

“Truly, my dear, I will never know what you saw in him,” Maya continued making her way to one of the benches along the wall of the courtyard. “Was it the thrill of danger? The mystery of the unknown?”

“Maya, why are you doing this?” Jaskier asked as he rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bench beside her.

“I want to know of course,” Maya answered with a laugh. “Oh, I bet it was the _sword._ I’ve heard it was quite large.”

“It is indeed quite large,” Jaskier said as he looked at the giggling woman beside him. “It was long, hard, and heavy. He always took such good care of it too. Making sure it was sharp and oiled and ready.” Jaskier had tried to keep a straight face for as long as he could, but eventually gave in and rolled off the bench laughing.

Mikel, who had been in the yard practicing with his sword, stopped and came over to check on his lord and lady. “It is good to see you both in such high spirits, but are you two quite alright?”

“Mikel, would you let Jaskier touch your sword if he asked?” Maja asked breathlessly. Jaskier gave a very inelegant squawk at her teasing. “He has been watching you practice with it.”

“Of course! Master Jaskier if you want to examine it I would let you,” Mikel answered back haltingly. The look of confusion on his face sent Maja into another laughing fit, which was made worse as the poor man held out his sword for Jaskier’s inspection. 

“That’s quite alright Mikel, I don’t need to see it. Maja is just having a little fun at my expense,” Jaskier explained as he felt his cheeks burn.

“Alright milord, I will be heading back in now if you two do not need anything,” Mikel responded. The poor man really did look like he was looking for a way to escape the strangeness before him. 

“We don’t need anything Mikel, thank you,” Maja answered, having gotten herself back under control. 

Jaskier watched Mikel head back to the house in silence. He knew Maja was staring at him and for once he would be patient to see what she wanted. 

“Did you ever fuck the Godkiller?” That was admittedly not what he had expected. 

Jaskier turned his head to look at her, but her face only showed open curiosity. 

“Well, yes. Often it was just the two of us alone on the road for weeks at a time. We would come together in the quiet of the forest to offer each other a helping hand, or more than once in my case, a willing mouth.” Maja scrunched up her nose at his answer but didn’t say anything further. “We never talked about it after the fact. I was just a warm, willing body. And of course, my traitorous mind read too much into it.” 

“Well, I for one am happy you got away from that...man,” Maja answered after a long moment, clearly unsure what to say to his rather illicit answer. “Though I do have to wonder, If I punched you in the gut, would you fall in love with me too?”

Jaskier squawked again at her response, which sent Maja into another peal of laughter. He rose from his spot on the ground, looking down at the woman laughing at him. 

“My dear, you couldn’t hit me hard enough to make me _l_ ove you,” Jaskier said before starting the walk back to the house. 

“How about Mikel then?” Maja called after him, still laughing full-bodied from her spot on the bench. 

\-----------

Mages are notoriously hard to find when you actually want one. Always seeming to have squirreled themselves away in some corner acting mysterious. Jaskier tried to avoid the wing of the house that Maja set aside for them to do whatever it was they did when they weren't gathering information or running errands. But today he needed to find Leon. Thankfully the room was mostly empty, only Angela and Leon were there, pouring over a thick book. 

“Greetings Master Jaskier,” Angela said as he approached the table. The girl was a new addition to the Legacy of Truth, having joined while Leon and Jaksier had been away. But like all the other mages that had come to live at Laska Manor, Jaskier knew she believed. 

“Hello my dear, I hope I am not getting in the way of this riveting...rune study?” Jaskier guessed as he looked down at the book. “Sadly, I must steal Leon from you for a moment.” 

Angela giggled daintily at him and Leon rose from his seat. “It is no trouble at all Master Jaskier We were just discussing some of the differences in the study between our two schools.” Leon started as he headed out of the room, Jaskier at his side. 

“I’m happy to see you and Angela are getting along. I know when I first got here, it was so strange and I was worried,” Jaskier responded, and he indeed was happy to see Leon enjoying this little vacation from their mission. 

Traveling with the man had been an experience. He wasn’t as talkative as Jaskier himself was, but was far more verbose than his former traveling companion. Jaskier was even willing to admit the strange lilt that Leon’s voice had had become something he looked forward to hearing on the road. Especially when he started to tell Jaskier the stories of his life. 

Jaskier had enjoyed the stories Leon had told him about Ban Ard, about all the places he had been before joining the Legacy, and how he had come to meet Maja. Leon was one of the first mages to join, he had met Maja purely by chance when he had come to Aedrin searching for something he felt he had been missing. 

“I think we will be leaving again soon, Leon,” Jaskier said as they headed down the hallway. He saw no reason to beat around the bush about what he wanted. 

“Oh? But we have only been back for a couple of weeks sir, and winter will be in full swing soon,” Leon questioned. 

“Winter might have been a hard season in the past for me as a traveling bard, but I no longer have to beg the charity of peoples spare coin, and after what happened in Temeria I think getting right back into the swing of things as quickly as possible will do me well,” Jaskier said coming to a stop. “I know that it will be hard travel for both of us, but your portals will make life significantly easier. I will get used to them for the task that has been set before us.” 

“Of course Master Jaskier, I will have to see about finding both of us some nicer cloaks and making sure we have enough supplies. Have you decided where you would like to go this time?” Leon answered. He seemed less than enthused about having to leave the safety and warmth of the manor so soon, but also knew that spreading Jaskier’s songs was more important. 

“I was thinking we could head to the far side of Kaedwen and make our way back here the long way for next winter.” 

“Aiming to charm your way into a meeting with King Henselt?” Leon seemed surprised by this. “Why not head south?”

“I think the King will be very receptive to us once we have a chance to charm some of his nobles and many of the fine peasantry that call his lands home,” Jaskier responded with a wave of his hand. He had been thinking about where they should head next for more than a week, the sting of his missed opportunity with King Foltest still fresh in his mind. “Besides, there are far too many rumors of Nilfgaard planning something. I would rather not tempt fate by heading too far south.”

“Of course sir, I will start gathering supplies right away,” Leon said with a deep bow. Jaskier had told him many times that he didn’t need to bow to him, but it seemed to bring the man some kind of comfort to show his respect. 

“Good see to it, Leon. I think we will leave in two or three weeks,” Jaskier said as he started back down the hallway again. “Now if you will excuse me I have to go tell Maja of my plan.” 

“She is in the small ballroom sir,” Leon said as he headed out to get started on his assigned tasks. 

\-----

“I thought this was a ballroom,” Jaskier said as he entered the room Leon had told him he had seen Maja in. His boots clicked softly against the polished marble as he headed for the chair now placed at the head of the room. “Not a throne room.” 

“It was, but I thought it might be nice to have a room for us to greet our newest members,” Maja answered back, she was sprawled across the...well throne really was the only word for it. A heavy stone chair with what appeared to be dark purple velvet cushions. “The more we grow, the more we must be willing to adapt.”

“Of course,” Jaskier replied with a roll of his eyes. “A room to hold all our dark and creepy meetings in.” 

Maja turned her head to give him a rather pointed look while somehow still maintaining her elegant sprawl. “Yes, so dark and creepy.” 

“Well, where is mine?” Jaskier asked as he walked up to her and pushed her feet to the side to settle against the arm of her chair. “Should I not have a chair in our new room as well.”

“I guess you should,” Maja responded with a sigh. “Do you want yours to be purple too?”

“Only you could pull off this much purple my dear. How about blue?” Jaskier said. “Sadly your need for opulence wasn’t why I came to find you.” 

Maja gave a hum in response, waiting for Jaskier to tell her what he needed. 

“Leon and I will be leaving in a couple of weeks. We have decided to head to Kaedwen.” Jaskier told her. He didn’t much care if she objected to his decision, he had been told many times that he was allowed to come and go as he pleased. 

“Have fun. Don’t die,” Maja responded, lifting her head to give Jaskier a smirk, to which he rolled his eyes again, swatting at her feet where they pushed at him before rising to leave. 

\------

Setting up camp had always been a way for Geralt to relax; it was methodical. Every task had a purpose, from setting up the bedrolls to setting the fire. He hadn’t even realized in the past how much he had enjoyed the sound of Jaskier next to him as he worked, helping set up the camp, humming away as he did. He hadn’t realized how the music and the quiet melody helped to soothe him. Just another thing Jaskier had done for him without him even realizing it. 

“How a man can brood as much as you, I will never know,” Yennefer said from her seat next to the fire. She and Ciri had been watching Geralt set up camp. “Would you like to continue, or will you be joining us for our paltry dinner of...roast rabbit.”

Geralt gave up on trying to sort through his potions and came to sit across from the girls, accepting a hunk of meat from Ciri. 

“Are you ok, Geralt?” Ciri asked. She had been worried about him since they had left Temeria two weeks ago. The hard trek they were making to Kaer Morhen wasn’t helping either. 

“Hmm.”

“Ugh. So we are back to that now, are we?” Yen said with a sharp look. His foul mood had been grating to her. “I know you are worried about Jaskier but there isn’t anything we can do right now.” 

Geralt let loose a deep growl at the reminder of what had happened in Temeria. He had made a point of not thinking about it. 

“Listen here, we don’t know where they went or what they are after.” Yen snapped. “We will have all winter to come up with a plan. Maybe your fellow Witchers have seen or heard something that could help us.” 

“What do you think happened to Jaskier?” Ciri asked quietly. “The Jaskier from your stories and all those songs about you. He seemed nice. I was excited to meet him when you finally found him.”

Geralt wanted to be surprised that the girl had noticed he had been looking for the bard, but he wasn't; she was shockingly perceptive. “I don’t know, Ciri. He could be spelled to be helping them, or they could be forcing him.” Geralt still wasn’t comfortable sharing all this with her, but it was better than lying. 

“Oh, but you could break the spell, right?” Ciri asked, turning hope-filled eyes to Yennefer. 

“If we can get him away from the people hurting him, we should be able to break it,” Yen answered as comfortingly as possible. Geralt knew she wasn’t willing to admit that without knowing what the spell was, she really had no idea how to break it. “You should get some rest, little one, I can’t imagine the road will get much easier from this point forward.” 

Ciri gave them both a look but acquiesced, dragging her feet to her bedroll, moving it next to Yen’s and laying down. 

Geralt wanted silently, picking at his food, till her heart rate and breathing slowed before looking up at Yennefer. 

“What if he joined them of his own free will, Geralt?” Yen finally asked. She was staring into the fire. “What if he chose this?”

“Jaskier wouldn’t do that,” Geralt answered with a growl. “He was good, kind, he wouldn’t agree to help people that went against something he believed.” 

“I’m just asking Geralt. You don’t know what happened after that blasted mountain,” Yen said reasonably. 

Geralt knew that he had no idea what had happened to his bard after he had cursed him off that mountain. He had spent most of the last winter thinking about how he had hurt him and wishing endlessly to take it all back and have the man by his side again. But he would not believe that Jaskier would change so drastically after that awful day. 

“He has to be being forced or spelled,” Geralt said finally. Yen gave a deep sigh. . .did she believe Jaskier would join them willingly?

“I hope so,” she said. “This cult could end up being a serious problem if they gain too much power. We should tell the others what we saw in Temeria when we get to the keep.” 

“No.” Geralt had already thought about that. Having to tell his brothers that the bard he had talked off and on about for the last twenty years, the same one that had sung of all the good Witchers could do was now part of the problem. . . it would not end well. They would have too many questions that he did not want to answer.

Yen just raised one perfect eyebrow at him, clearly waiting for him to explain why they couldn't tell the others about seeing the bard. 

“They don’t need to know about Jaskier, I will handle that part of it myself,” Geralt answered her. Jaskier was his, and he would be the one to make sure that he was safe. 

“I have the very distinct feeling this will come back to bite you, but I also know by now that arguing with you when your mind is so clearly made up is near impossible. You know I will help as much as I can Geralt,” Yen said, rising from her seat by the fire and heading for her bedroll, leaving Geralt to his thoughts. 

_What happened to you, Jaskier?_

\---------

The rest of the trip to Kaer Morhen was completed quickly and quietly. Geralt was still too trapped in his worry about what torture the cult could be performing on Jaskier to keep him complacent. He knew it was making him lousy company, but his mind was too wrapped in his concern for the bard to spare a thought for the other two, at least beyond making sure they were fed and the camp set up each night. 

Geralt had managed to convince Ciri that they shouldn’t mention Jaskier when talking about the cult with the others. While also ignoring the looks Yen gave him. He had told her that they didn’t know enough — there was no reason they had to put Jaskier in more danger by letting the others know about him yet. The girl had given him a very knowing look, far too similar to the ones Yen kept giving him, and agreed. 

Thankfully Ciri and Yen both settled into Kaer Morhen easily. Everyone welcomed the younger girl back with open arms, and after some hesitation and a couple nights of drinks they started to warm to Yen as well. But there was still a weight upon all of them. It might not have been obvious to an outside observer that Lambert and Eskel were more stressed than they should have been in the old keep but Geralt could see it. 

So one night after the snows had already set in, Geralt showed the girls off to bed and gathered all the liquor in the kitchen. This year their tradition might have a different purpose for him but he knew his brothers needed the night of drinking and complaining to help them finally be able to fully relax. 

It wasn’t long before both Eskel and Lambert joined him, seemingly drawn by tradition though they had never had a date set for this particular event. . . they just seemed to know when it was time. 

Lambert threw himself down onto the bench across from Geralt, pulling one of the tankards closer to himself. “I ain’t starting this year.” 

Eskel huffed at them both from his spot beside Geralt. “Guess I will,” He took a deep pull from his cup. “Fuck this year, I was headed through Temeria following rumor of a Wyvren and a possible good-paying job. When I got to the town, they started screaming as soon as they saw me.” Eskel finished off his cup before restarting his story. “People screamed ‘Godkiller’ at me. They threw garbage at me. The mayor or alderman or whatever the fuck he was, came out to see me, I hadn’t even made it that far into the town. Naively I thought maybe he might be willing to hire me still. That the Wyvern might be ravaging the livestock. Instead, he walked right up to me and said ‘They’ had been shown the truth. The prophet had come to visit them and sung them the truth.” 

Geralt suddenly tensed at the mention of songs. Was Jaskier the prophet? It would make sense with what Triss had told them. But to hear how much Jaskier was possibly involved in all the trouble his brothers had come to this year, was like being kicked in the gut. 

“He told me the prophet had come to visit them and sing the truth of the world that the God killers had stolen from everyone. He said that the Legacy of Truth had shown them the way the world was meant to be. It was at this point that the people started throwing stones at me. Let me tell you getting stoned out of a town is something you never truly get used to.” 

“So, we finally got a name for these fucks?” Lambert asked. It was strange to see him so subdued, but he had listened to Eskel’s story without making a single snide comment. “Legacy of Truth, how fucking pretentious.” 

Geralt rose to refill both their cups as the other two shared a rough laugh about the name of the cult that had caused them so much pain. Already his plan to learn more from his brothers was paying off, he had gotten a name. Maybe he should feel guilty for his actions, and maybe one day he would, but right now all he could think about was how this information could help him rescue Jaskier. 

“Well I guess since pretty boy ain’t gonna talk I’ll go,” Lambert said gruffly, accepting his refilled tankard all the same. 

“Ya think I would’a learned after last year to stay out of Aedrin. But I came across a town with a pack of Graveir. The fuck they were doing there is anyone’s guess. Some woman fleeing the town told me of them. Woulda been nice if she had told me bout them being crazy monster worshippers too,” Lambert paused to give another bitter laugh. “I head for this town, made it farther in than you did Eskel. Made it to the square before people started pouring out of their homes and shops. They were singing, couldn’t tell what right away, but then it became clear it was a song about a woman walking in the woods that was attacked by bandits and saved by the Graveir. Fuck! The song was so flowery and full of that doublespeak bullshit those poets love.” 

_Or one poet in particular._ Geralt thought, trying to hide his wince. 

“I stood there in shock the whole time as they crowded round me. I fuckin’ didn’t want to have to fight my way out of the town but knew it might come to that. Fuck, that song was dumb too! I woulda given anything at that moment to hear that godsdamn coin song again.” Lambert said. There was no hiding his wince that time, but thankfully neither of the others seemed to notice. “As soon as the song was done, they started coming at me with whatever any of them seemed to have on hand. Fuckin’ kitchen knives and blacksmith tools. I had to knock a few of them out to get out of there. I sure as fuck ain’t goin’ back to Aedrin this year.” 

Lambert might not be willing to go back there, but the fact that he was the first to hear anything about all of this and that it seemed to be the worst in Aedrin gave Geralt an idea on where he might be headed as soon as the pass thawed. He would need to talk to Yen about this plan to make sure she could take Ciri and be safe for the year without him. 

“Geralt, what about you any run-ins with the monster worshippers?” Eskel asked. 

Geralt paused for a minute, this would be the time to tell them he knew someone in the cult that they were trying to get in with kings and nobility, and they seemed to have mages on their side...but.

But if he told them about Jaskier, they would want to know what he had done to the bard. They could go after Jaskier to try to put a stop to all of this. 

“No, no run-ins,” Geralt finally answered. He would solve this on his own. He couldn’t let Jaskier get hurt. Not again. They would forgive him, he hoped. “Just another year on the path. Drowners, Kikimora, shit people, shit pay.” 

“Well, aren’t you always the lucky fuck,” Lambert huffed around his fourth or fifth glass. 

“We should do something about these fucks before things get worse for us,” Eskel said, he was as deep into his cups as Lambert and just starting to slur his speech a little. 

“Hear, hear,” Lambert hollered. “I’m ready to pierce that fuckin’ prophet with my steel.” 

Fuck. Geralt needed to get them to calm down before they came up with some cocksure plan to take out the cult. 

“We don’t even know where they are. What they really want. This year could be better spent gathering more information,” Geralt tried. 

“Fuck that!” Lambert exclaimed. 

“Now wait a minute Lambert. Geralt might have a point. We don’t know where these Legacy twats are based. We need to know more.” Eskel tried to placate Lambert, or so Geralt assumed through his now truly slurred speech.

“A course you side with him,” Lambert said with a growl. 

“I ain’t siding with no one,” Eskel responded, rising wobbly from his chair to huff at Lambert. 

“You always side with pretty boy. I say we should head out as soon as the snow clears and slice down these monster loving fucks,” Lambert says, swaying where he stood glaring at Eskel. 

“We don’t know where they are or what kinda resources they have,” Eskel responds. 

“Arg!”Lambert screamed, vaulting the table and slamming into Eskel. They quickly devolved into a wrestling match, all sloppy drunken punches and rolling across the floor. In the morning, all would be forgiven ust as it always had been. But right now, this seemed to be helping the two of them work out the last of the tension that had been dogging them. 

Hopefully, though, they would remember this and be willing to gather more information this year about the cult. It would give Geralt the time he needed to find Jaskier and get him as far from everything as he could. 

He would need to find Jaskier fast before his brothers did. If they find out he is the one singing these songs, there is no knowing what they might do. Ciri will forgive him for needing to go out on his own this year. The girl is perspective, and this once it might pay off in his favor. 

\-------

Spring was fast approaching, the snow starting to melt off the trees and mountain paths. Soon it would be time to return to the Path, to say goodbye for another year to his brothers and the safety of Kaer Morhen. 

Geralt’s mind had been heavy since the night of drinking with his brothers. He knew that he needed to find Jaskier before anyone else and get him away from whatever trouble he was in so that he and Eskel and Lambert could go in and take out this cult before their ideas spread any farther. People were too accepting of any idea that they thought might save them. With an army of black and gold marching forward Geralt could see how the idea of having monsters protecting you could seem appealing. 

But that didn’t make the fact that the cult was using the fear to their advantage any better. Lying to the masses to give them some sort of false sense of hope that they had a savior in the woods — monsters they warned their children of were now the protectors of their homes. 

What a crock of shit. 

“I could feel you brooding from all the way in the library,” Yen said, approaching him where he stood on one of the walls, facing out into the valley. “What has you in such a mood now?”

“I need to go off on my own this year. Will you and Ciri be safe?” Geralt asked, not turning to look at her. 

“Yes, I have many places where I can take the girl and hide out. Places I’m sure not even you could find. We will return here next winter to continue her barbarian training,” Yen said with a sigh. He didn’t not doubt that she knew this was coming. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to find Jaskier and bring him back here,” Geralt answered. What else could she possibly think he was going to do? What other option was there?

“Geralt, I know you still believe him to be under some spell or coerced...but what if he isn’t?” Yen asked slowly. “What if he made this choice? What if you can’t save him?” 

_Not this again_ , Geralt thought

He turned his sharp gold eyes on her. “He would never do that!” 

“How would you know? What do you really know about him?” 

Geralt paused for a moment, he knew Jaskier. Maybe not his past which the bard never spoke of. But he knew his kindness, easy smiles, and friendly comradery. He knew Jaskier was never afraid of him, always willing to touch him even when others only saw a monster masquerading as a man. He knew he missed the bard more than he wanted to admit and that he needed to save him. 

“I know enough to know that Jaskier would never turn his back on something he believed in,” Geralt finally said, turning to look back at the thawing valley. 

“I hope so Geralt. I truly do. Just...be careful and remember what I have said,” Yen replied, her voice strained with emotion. . .but she knew Geralt didn’t want to hear it. “You get to be the one to tell Ciri you're leaving her with me for the year.” 

“Do you know where she is?” 

“Her room, resting. Your brothers could go a little easier on her with all this training you know,” Yen huffed. 

“Hmm,” Geralt responded, already making his way back into the keep to find Ciri. 

The walk to Ciri’s room was quiet, Geralt didn’t run into any of the other inhabitants of the keep on his walk there. He wasn’t sure what he would say to the girl when he got to her room. 

Before he realized it he was standing in front of her door, hand raised to knock on the old wood. Geralt pauses, he knew this needed to be done, he needed to talk to her to let the girl know what was going on. He never wanted to lie to her. 

Taking a calming breath, he raised his hand again and gave a sharp rap to the door. 

It only took a moment for Ciri to open it. “Hello, Geralt.” She chirped excitedly. 

“Hmm,” Fuck, already off to a great start. 

“Would you like to come in?” Ciri asked with a laugh. His usual taciturn nature no longer bothered her, in fact it seemed to amuse her more than anything. 

It was too soon again before Geratl was seated in front of the fireplace, Ciri having returned to sitting on the bed as she must have been before he disturbed her, looking at him expectantly.

“You get along with Yen,” Geralt started. 

“Yes, she is a good teacher and she knows so much,” Ciri answered quizzically, giving him a curious look. 

“I need you to go with Yen this year,” Geralt said. “She is going to take you somewhere safe to practice. In the winter you will return here.” 

“Yen is taking me so I can learn more magic?” Ciri asked. She didn’t seem sad at this sudden change of plans, just inquisitive. 

“Yes.”

“Are you going to do something dangerous?” Ciri questioned. 

Geralt tried to hold back a sigh, he had promised himself he would not lie. Withholding information was just a different type of lie. 

“I need to go find Jaskier. We don’t know what these people are doing to him, they could be hurting him,” Geralt responded. “If I can find him and bring him back here to Yen and Vesemir, they can help him get better and Me and Eskel and Lambert can go take care of the cult.” 

“Oh,” Ciri finally said after a thoughtful moment. “You’ve known him for a long time. I would be sad if I thought my friend was being hurt.” 

“He followed me on the Path for twenty years. I have a lot I need to say to him that I should have said a long time ago,” Geralt responded. 

“What kind of things? Nice things?” Ciri asked. She had moved farther down the bed with every word. Her interest in him and his friend was obvious. 

“Hmm...I was not very nice to him. I never thanked him for all the songs he wrote and all the times he took care of me,” Geralt said. He leaned his head back onto the chair, closing his eyes. It was nice to talk about Jaskier and not get the knowing look like he would with Yen. “I never even called him my friend.”

“Why?” 

“I thought I didn’t need anyone and I didn't want anyone needing me. I was wrong. There is nothing wrong with being needed or needing others, but I tried to push him away,” Geralt said. “I hoped that he knew I did care about him. I tried to keep him safe, or as safe as he could be following a Witcher around. I tried to make sure he always had food and that we got to stay in inns but I don’t think it was enough.”

“Some people like words,” Ciri said quietly, trying not to break the moment. 

“He is definitely one of those people. If I had just called him a friend even once he might be here with us now,” Geralt said with a grimace as he was reminded again of that godsforsaken mountain. “I said things to him that I never should have, he didn’t deserve it.” 

“But you’re sorry right? You care about him and want to help him,” Ciri reasoned. 

Geralt opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. He really was sorry. He missed the bard more than he ever would have imagined. His singing, his rambling, everything. He missed Jaskier. 

“I have a secret I need to tell him,” Geralt responded, still staring at the ceiling. “I need to tell him I love him.” 

It was the first time he had said it aloud. The first time he had truly accepted that what he felt for his vibrant bard was more than just companionship. Last winter when he had realized that he felt something for the bard he had been unwilling to accept that it could possibly be love. But now in this quiet moment of acceptance he realized it never could have been anything else. He was a fool for denying both of them what they could have had for so long. 

“Well, then you better start rehearsing your apology now. We both know you're not so good with words,” Ciri answered brightly. 

Geralt turned to look at the bed. Ciri now sitting with her feet over the far end and smiling blindingly at him. 

“Alright, but you have to help me,” Geralt said and he couldn’t have held back his smile if he wanted to. Thankfully he didn’t, here with his daughter in his home, he was... happy. 

Only one thing was missing, but hopefully soon his whole family, his whole heart, would be together. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt chases his bard. The Wolves plan.

It had been a tough year for Geralt. His quest to find Jaskier had borne no fruit. Not that he hadn’t come across plenty of towns that had seen the bard, or as some of them now apparently called him the prophet. It was all a little too reminiscent of his first few years after Blaviken, people flinching away from the mere sight of him. Witchers had once again gone back to being monsters, chased out of towns with stones and torches and sadly this time songs. Hearing those songs was the worst part of it, knowing they had been written by Jaskier, whether he was doing it willingly or not. Contracts were hard to come by and his coin was always low. He hoped his brothers were having a better time. 

Not that he hadn’t learned more about the Legacy of Truth in the year that had passed, but that had not been his entire goal. 

He now knew that the manor Jaskier mentioned was in Aedrin somewhere near Eysenlaan thanks mostly to a Witch that had hired him to handle some Nekkers near the town she worked out of, cult be damned. She mentioned that she had heard the bard and mage talking about the route they would have to take to get back, and that it would be easier to portal. But that had been in the spring and when he had made it to the town it had already been summer. They must have already returned by then and as much as he would have loved to storm the manor and take Jaskier back by force that most likely would have ended up with him dead. 

Every town Geralt had passed through this year seemed to have its own version of a song about how the monsters that plagued them were actually put there by the Gods to protect them. Geralt still didn’t understand how they could believe that the monsters that regularly killed their hunters should be seen as great protectors worthy of a tithe. Even walking into towns to inquire about monster problems had gotten him screamed out. 

Fear made people do strange things he guessed. 

Geralt was not looking forward to having to tell Ciri he hadn’t found Jaskier. She had seemed excited to finally meet him; he didn’t know how he would tell her she would have to go with Yen for another year so he could keep searching, and he didn’t want to think about how he would convince the others to hold off on attacking the cult for another year. He had hardly managed it last year. 

Geralt decided this would be the last town he would pass through looking for news of the bard before he had to head back up the mountain for another winter. It was a small hamlet right by the border of Aedrin and Kaedwan, hardly worthy of a name for how unremarkable it was. 

It would likely also be his last chance to sleep in a real bed if he could not find work on the way back to Kaer Morhen. His coin purse was lighter than it had been in years before, still, he could not pass up the chance to not have to sleep on the forest floor and hunt for his food. Having travelling companions had obviously spoiled him to the luxuries of life. 

He walked down the quiet street, the hood of his thick black cloak up to cover his white hair and eyes down to hide their distinctive gold color. With Roach beside him he knew he was still recognizable, but there was nothing to be done for that and he was not going to leave the mare to fend for herself in the woods for a night. 

Geralt made his way swiftly towards the stables outside the only inn in town, offering the young stable hand a couple of his last coins to take extra care of Roach. She had put up with a lot this year in his search. Long rides on the road with little rest as he chased every whisper of the bard that he heard had been hard on her. 

Geralt could hear the crowd in the inn and the loud chatter and clinking of drinks on tables, but he could not hear any music coming from inside, which was hopefully a good sign. 

Geralt made his way around back, hoping to sneak in unnoticed. 

“No, no don’t go sweet thing,” crooned a female voice from the front of the tavern. Geralt paused in the shadows between the building hoping that they would just move on. He was really looking forward to the possibility of a bath. “Sing us another song.” 

“Oh, my love, I will sing you many more songs, but first I need to rest my voice. A little fresh air and I will return,” _Fuck_ , Geralt knew that voice, knew that tone for all the times it had been used to get a room or a barmaid out of her skirts. 

Geralt moved stealthy forward, leaning out of the shadow just enough to be certain that it really was Jaskier. 

“You had better,” the barmaid replied with a wink. “I’ll be waiting.” She flicked her towel at Jaskier cheekily before making her way back in to tend to her patrons. 

“Ten minutes my dear,” Jaskier called to the closed door. He was exactly as Geralt remembered him, a fine green doublet open to show his loosely tied undershirt, hair tousled in a way that made him look roguish, a flush high on his cheek from performing. . . this close he could even see the rings he always wore adorning his fingers. 

Jaskier started to head down the street smiling pleasantly, lute slung over his back. Geralt paused in a moment of indecision — he didn’t know where the mage was, or if that warrior was with him. They could pop in at any moment and shepherd the bard away if they saw him, but this might be his only chance. Could he really pass it up? 

Geralt followed Jaskier down the road, trying to stay to the shadows and keep an eye out for either of the men he had seen last time. For now, it appeared the bard might be alone, truly taking a break from his performance. 

Jaskier walked leisurely through the town, seemingly not with a destination in mind. He looked relaxed, shoulders loose, smiling to himself. It didn’t appear that he had lost any weight, he wasn’t moving in a way that suggested he was in pain either. Geralt would almost say he looked happy and healthy. But that surely could not be, unless the spell they had on him was much stronger than they thought it was. What could they be making him believe to have that kind of effect?

Geralt watched as the bard headed towards the well, sitting down on the stone edge and tilting his head back to look up at the stars. 

_Fuck, he’s gorgeous_ , Geralt thought. 

Geralt could have stood there watching Jaskier forever — the smooth lines of his neck arching back to stare straight up, the tight but not obscene fit of his doublet, showing off all the muscles of his arms, the way his strong calloused fingers tapped against the stones, always fidgeting, always moving. . . how did he never notice all these things before? How could Geralt have been so blind to the beauty that had walked by his side for two decades, to the caring, bright spirit that followed him into his world of shadows and pain, illuminating all the dark and making it bright? 

There was so much he needed to say to him. So much that should have been said _years_ ago. But first, he had to get him back to Kear Morhen so they could break whatever spell was put on him. 

Taking a calming breath Geralt stepped out of the shadows and towards his bard. 

Jaskier didn’t react to the sound of someone approaching him. He continued to stare up. Geralt moved forward again, keeping his steps light and his stance open. No need to startle him. He stopped just a couple feet from the relaxed figure. 

“Dear heart, I promise I will return to sing more for you soon,” Jaskier said slowly tilting his head down to look at whoever had approached him. Geralt watched as the smile fell from his face. “Well, _there_ is a face I never expected to see again.” 

“Jaskier-” Geralt started. Fuck, he really should have thought about what he was going to say. 

“Yes, that is my name,” Jaskier responded with a scowl. “What do you want, Witcher?”

“I-I’m here to help you,” Geralt started, but was swiftly cut off by a dark laugh. 

“With what?” Jaskier spat, not rising from his spot. “I can assure you I am doing quite well for myself out of your shadow.” 

“These people are using you Jaskier. They are hurting people,” Geralt tried to reason. He never had Jaskier’s skill with words and he knew it showed, especially now. 

“Oh, you misguided fool, Maja was right.” Who Maja was Geralt didn’t know, but he tucked that name away for later. Jaskier was his focus now. Jaskier continued, “They aren’t using me, they love me! The songs I create for the Legacy of Truth bring joy back to the world. It reminds them of the way things were supposed to be before you Godkillers stole it away.” 

“Jaskier, you don’t mean that.” Geralt said fervently, “They have twisted your mind. . . I can help you get away from them,” Geralt took a step closer to Jaskier as he spoke. 

“Do not come near me!” Jaskier snapped. “I can assure you, _godkiller_ , that my mind is as sharp as it always has been. I merely found my purpose.”

Geralt quickly retreated; this was not going the way he had hoped. He didn’t want to have to knock the bard out and drag him away, but it seemed like it might come to that. He decided to try one more time to reason with him before his hand was forced. 

“Come with me Jaskier, I can keep you safe,” Geralt pleaded. _Please Jaskier, I need you._

“Leave? Why would I? I am loved. I am respected. And I am out of your way. You told me you wanted nothing to do with me, your one blessing, and now that I have made a name for myself and have respect and power, you're jealous?” Jaskier retorted as he glared darkly at Geralt. 

“Jaskier that’s not it. I just wanted what was best for you,” Geralt responded quickly.

“Really? What’s best for me? Was it best for me when you told me my singing was a fillingless pie? Was it best for me when you chased after that temptress? Was it best for me when you screamed at _me_ for all of _your_ mistakes and forced me back down that mountain alone? Which one of those was best for me Godkiller!?” Jaskier shouted, jumping up from his seat on the stone ledge and waving his hands about.

“Jaskier, listen-”

“No! I will not listen to you anymore. I have built my own path away from you. I refuse to be your lackey, following in your shadow and begging for scraps,” Jaskier spat at him.

Geralt knew he had been less than kind to the bard over the years, but he had thought he would still have a chance to get through to him. To show him that he actually did care for him. Now it was apparent that Yen had been right — Jaskier had chosen this. He wasn’t speaking like he was bespelled. His anger and recognition of past events spoke to his undiminished mental capacity. 

Had he really hurt Jaskier so badly that he would turn to a cult for approval and comfort? 

He needed to move in and knock Jaskier out so he could take him away and prove that he cared and that he was sorry for all the cruel things he had said and done. Even if Jaskier never forgave him and left him he would at least be safe. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt started again, “I’m-” Geralt stopped suddenly as his medallion vibrated against his chest. 

He only had a second to look away from the man in front of him before he was thrown back into the wall of a building by a blast of magic. 

Geralt looked up through the spots in his vision to see Jaskier with the mage — Leon —standing beside him, hands glowing a deep green as he prepared another strike. 

“Leave it, Leon, it is not worth the wasted chaos,” Jaskier said sharply. “We have finished our work here and the people of this town will take care of the rest. Lets go.” 

“Of course master Jaskier,” Leon responded swiftly, keeping one eye on Geralt as he moved a hand to open a portal. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouted, raising to his feet despite the dizziness clouding his head. 

“Do not come after me again godkiller. It will not end well for you” Jaskier said over his shoulder before heading through the portal, followed quickly by the mage. 

“Fuck.” Geralt whispered, falling to his knees on the dirt road of this shit little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. 

_How did it come to this Jaskier? I’m so sorry. I love you._

\-----------------

Walking through the gates of Kear Morhen should have felt like coming home. It didn’t this year. Geralt walked alone through the stone archway of the old keep. He should have had Jaskier at his side. He should have had the sound of music and endless questions as he climbed the mountain. Instead he was chased by silence and his own failure. 

All he could hear was Jaskier’s words of hate still ringing in his head. His mind was spinning around the memories of all the ways he had hurt Jaskier, forcing him to seek comfort and companionship in a cult that went against everything Geralt stood for, just to get what Geralt had never been willing to give. 

After his confrontation with the bard, Geralt had gathered Roach back up from the stables, much to her displeasure, and rode out of town as fast as he could. He hadn’t even tried to look for work in the three weeks it had taken him to get back to Kear Morhen. Geralt had lived in the woods, foraging for everything and staying away from people. Even the idea of setting foot in a town set his skin crawling. 

How had he driven the bard so far? He must truly be the monster people believed him to be to have hurt the one he cared for so much. 

“Fuck you look like shit,” Lambert said as he slowly approached Geralt, as though he was worried Geralt might lash out against him. 

“Take Roach,” Geralt grunted. 

“Fuck you, I’m not your stable boy,” Lambert replied even as he reached to grab Roach’s reigns.

“Ciri and Yen here?” Geralt asked as Lambert led Roach away. 

“Arrived yesterday, opened a portal right outside the gate,” Lambert called back. 

“Hmm,” He decided to head into the keep to put his things down and maybe have a bath before he had to admit his failings to anyone else. But it appeared luck was not on his side.

“Geralt! I missed you,” Ciri yelled as she barreled into him. “Oh, gods you stink.” 

“I’m going to my room to have a bath,” Geralt responded vacantly. 

“Oh...it didn’t go well did it?” Ciri asked. Her sharp green eyes staring up at him. 

“What didn’t go well?” Eskel asked, appearing from the kitchen. 

“Nothing!” Geralt growled, moving around the both of them to head towards the stairs. He needed to get away. This was too much, why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

“Yeah, I’m not taking that from you. Was it that fucking Cult?” Eskel asked as he grabbed Geralt’s wrist. 

Geralt spun around quickly, breaking Eskel’s hold on him. “You don’t know anything! I searched for him all year, it's my fault!” Geralt cried emphatically.

“What?” Eskel sputtered, taking a step back and in front of Ciri. 

“I needed to find him! I needed to bring him back here so he was safe!” Geralt hollered. He couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“What the fuck Geralt?” Lambert yelled, running back into the keep. 

“Geralt calm down,” Vesemir said, appearing at the top of the stairs. 

“I drove him into the arms of the enemy! I did this, it's _my_ fault, _I_ hurt Jaskier!” Geralt said, falling to his knees in the entrance of the keep as his voice trailed off into a whimper. 

“Eskel, Lambert, get him upstairs and help him clean up,” Vesemir commanded, turning to Geralt, “You need a good night's rest boy, but tomorrow you will explain yourself.”

\---------

After Lambert and Eskel had dragged him up to his room, filled the tub, and made sure he wasn’t going to drown, Geralt was left alone with his thoughts. 

How was he supposed to tell them what he had done? That he had gone to find Jaskier, and that he had hoped to bring him back here? He would need to confess that last winter he had lied and knew more about the cult than he had let on. How he let his brothers suffer while he went off to complete his own mission. At the time he had thought it was for the best, but maybe one of them would have been able to bring Jaskier back safely. Maybe he would have listened to Eskel, or Lambert could have gotten the jump on him. 

Not that it mattered, Jaskier had chosen this path for himself. Said he had found his purpose and glory with people who were hurting those that didn’t know better. This wasn’t his Jaskier — not his kind, bright songbird. Had his words really been enough to bring down such a vibrant soul?

He had wanted to make sure Jaskier was in his right mind before he apologized and showed him how much he cared about him and started to try to make up for years of mistreatment. But now Geralt wondered if Jaskier would have listened even if he had forced the words out? Would he have cared that Geralt wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees before him, and to beg to be allowed to travel with him again? 

Would he care that Geralt loved him? 

Geralt didn’t sleep that night, not with this new fear playing havoc in his mind. Nor with the memory of Jaskier calling him a godkiller, still fresh in his mind's eye. He managed to hide out in his room till mid-morning, ignoring Eskel knocking asking if we would come down to breakfast. He wasn’t ready to face them yet. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready to confess his recent sins to the closest thing he had to a family. But he couldn’t hide forever, so when he knew everyone would be headed to the main hall for lunch he headed down as well. 

The weight of their eyes upon him when he entered the room was almost enough to make him walk right out and down the mountain. For years he talked about Jaskier — they had heard the songs of the now-famous White Wolf. So he could only imagine what they must have been thinking after his fit yesterday. 

Thankfully, no one seemed inclined to start the conversation until they all had some food in their stomachs. Ciri sat as close to him as she could, she so clearly wanted to reach out to him. They had bonded so much last winter, forming a relationship based on something other than the fact that he was protecting her. Geralt would never admit it out loud, but the fact that she didn’t reach out hurt. It felt like another brand of failure. 

“Mm… I think you have something you need to talk about Geralt,” Vesemir stated. The plates had just been cleared off the table, but no one seemed in a rush to be anywhere else. 

“I-” what would he say? How could he explain this?

“Why don’t you start with why you were screaming about that bard?” Vesemir asked. He had always understood Geralt’s difficulty with words, but also knew when he needed to be pushed. 

“Jaskier... He’s the bard singing for the Legacy of Truth,” Geralt started. He kept his eyes on the rough wood of the table as he spoke. They should really polish this table. 

“What? The one that sung that stupid coin song?” Lambert gruffed from opposite him. “How did he go from singing your praise to singing about fucking monsters?” 

“I hurt him,” Geralt answered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ciri starting to look apprehensive. He had never confessed this part of the story to her. 

“Well maybe you should start at the beginning?” Eskel offered. 

Yen, who had mostly been watching all of this unfold, silently huffed at the suggestion. She understood why Geralt didn’t want to relive the memory of the mountain. 

But he didn’t have much of a choice anymore, she had been right. All of his choices up to this point were coming back to bite him. He always thought he was doing the right thing, though now he had to wonder if that was ever true. Was any choice he had made about the people in his life for their good or his own?

Telling the story of the mountain and the words he had screamed at Jaskier, who had just wanted to offer him comfort, was never going to be easy. Not even staring at the table would save him from the Ciri’s quiet gasp, or the sound of Eskel’s fists clenching his mug. 

Confessing what the three of them had seen in Temeria, how much he had known the whole time.To open all his faults and failings and lay them bare before the people he cared about, it was worse than any wound he had ever received in battle. It was a wound that might never heal.

“So this whole time,” Lambert started slowly. “You knew who was doing all this? You lied?” 

“I don’t think he is in charge,” Geralt responded quietly. 

“You just fucking said they call him master and liege! Sounds like he’s running the fucking show to me!” Lambert screamed, rising from his seat to loom over Geralt, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Lambert! Let him finish,” Vesemir commanded from the head of the table. 

Normally Geralt could detach himself from his stories of the path, it was all just work. Contracts, coin, and hunting monsters, the life of a Witcher. He wished he could reach that hazy detachment now as he regaled his failed encounters with the bard this past year. Finally, he made it to the tiny hamlet. 

Geralt held nothing back — he told them every word Jaksier had said to him. He spoke for longer than he had in months about the anger and venom that followed with the newfound disdain for a godkiller. He confessed that he hoped and almost prayed that Jaskier had been under a spell, but it wasn’t true. 

“The snows haven’t set in yet,” Lambert announced into the silence left after Geralt finished his story. “We could take these fuckers out before they can cause anymore harm.” 

“Geralt,” Eskel started. For the first time since he had started his story he looked up, only to find anger in his brother's eyes. . . anger he knew he deserved. “You should have told us all this. We could have helped you.” 

“I know.”

“Eskel is right, Geralt,” Vesemir said calmly. “It was stupid of you to think you could handle all this on your own.”

“Hey! Get your shit or I’m leaving without you fucks,” Lambert snapped. 

“Lambert, settle. We need to come up with a plan,” Eskel sighed. “We know where they are, but not what kind of fortification they have. Or if they have other mages at their disposal.”

“Fuck your plan! I say we go in with as many bombs as we can all hold and blow that place straight to hell!” Lambert said with a manic grin. 

“Cirilla, my dear, the boys have much to talk about. Why don’t you and me go and practice?” Yen suddenly asked from behind him. 

“But I want to help,” Ciri said emphatically. 

“Go with Yen, Ciri. I will let you know what we come up with,” Geralt said, turning to the girl. He tried to smile at her but from the worry in her eyes, he knew it must have not come out right. 

“Fine!” Ciri shouted, storming out of the hall. 

The click of Yen’s heels against the rough stone followed Ciri’s exit. “Whatever you decide I expect to be told,” Yen said without turning. “I do hope you can fix this Geralt.” The honesty in her voice spoke of a pain that Geralt knew she didn’t know how to handle. He chose not to respond and let her exit on the last word. 

“Fucking sorceresses,” Lambert griped. “I still think we should leave now. They won’t be expecting us to storm their fucking keep. Geralt can run in and play the fucking hero, and me and Eskel can slice and dice behind him.” 

“Geralt,” Vesemir said, snapping Geralt out of his daze. “We have the whole story now but still not why you kept this from us.”

“It...”Geralt started, “Jaskier was my problem. I needed to save him. I needed to be the one to confront him. I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing him away.”

“That’s not a good reason to be a dick,” Lambert retorted. “Just cause you think it's the right thing to do doesn’t mean it is. Did you ever ask him what he wanted?”

Geralt’s flinch was all the answer the others needed for that question. He had never considered asking Jaskier what he wanted. When he had a competition to go to or wanted to head to a festival he just announced he was leaving. But now Geralt had to wonder if Jaskier had hoped the whole time that Geralt would agree to go with him, and how much it had to have hurt each time Geralt just “hmm”’d at him and rode the opposite direction. 

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Lambert continued. “You might have a good heart Geralt but you got a head full of fucking rocks.”

“When did you become the emotionally adept one?” Eskel asked with a laugh.

“I’ve always been a fucking charmer, you shitheads were just too far up your own asses to realize it,” Lambert answered eloquently. 

“Yeah, a charmer with language like that,” Eskel replied sarcastically. 

Lambert started to rise from his seat, fists ready to swing. He always was a little too easy to rile up. 

“Enough!” Vesemir snapped, “We have bigger problems than this. There is a cult convincing people that they should worship monsters, or have you forgotten already?” Lambert quickly fell back into his seat. When Vesemir put on that particular tone they knew it was time to listen. “From Geralt’s story we know this cult has at least one mage, it is not a far stretch to imagine they have more. We also know they have trained mercenaries or warriors. This is not going to be an easy fight.”

Geralt had to reluctantly agree that when it was put like that this seemed like an impossible challenge. 

“But, if we start gathering supplies now and stock up on potions and bombs, we might be able to take them.” Vesemir said sagely. “They won’t be expecting us. They don’t know we know the location of their keep. If we wait for the snows to set in, they really won’t be expecting us. Geralt, you will have to convince Yennefer to portal us all close to the location of their base.” 

Well that sounded like it was going to be an uphill battle, but Yen did care about Jaskier in her own way. She might be willing. He would have to see if he could pilfer a bottle of the good wine to bribe her with. 

“Lambert, get started on bombs in the morning. Eskel, make sure we have enough supplies for the potions,” Vesemir commanded. “We start planning and training for this in the morning.”

Eskel rose from his seat, clearly headed to his room to relax before they started training again in the morning. Lambert looked like he wanted to argue but a sharp look from Vesemir was enough to cut him short and have him scurrying after Eskel. He might not like the older Witcher, but he would respect this decision. 

“Geralt,” Vesemir said from his seat as Geralt moved to follow his brothers out of the kitchen. “I know you want to save the bard, but it sounds like he’s made his bed.” Vesemir’s deep gold eyes stared into Geralt’s as he spoke, imparting centuries of knowledge on his pupil. “You can’t save everyone. You know this as well as I do. But I know that I can’t stop you from trying, even if I told you that I think it is a pointless endeavor. I know you will still try to save him.”

Vesemir paused for a moment, looking for all the world his age. “When you see him I hope you will remember that sometimes people don’t want to be saved, and the fact that you tried makes you a good person.”

“What if that's not enough?” Geralt asked, He had already gone through this once with Renfri and it had almost torn him apart; he didn’t know if he would survive it again. Especially not with Jaskier.

“It has to be enough, there is nothing else, you will learn to live with the pain, till it becomes another part of you,” Vesemir said sadly. “Get some rest, you’ll need it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier deals with his confrontation with Geralt. The Wolves arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story now includes some incredible art by the amazingly talented @truecryptid on Twitter.

“Fucking Witcher!” Jaskier screamed as he stormed through the doors of Laska Manor. “Who does he think he is?”

“Master Jaskier, please calm down,” Leon begged, chasing behind him. 

“Calm down?” Jaskier exclaimed, rounding on Leon. “He thinks he can just show up and ruin everything I have made for myself?!”

Jaskier didn’t know what to do with all the anger burning in his gut — he wanted to break something, he wanted to punch something, he wanted to hunt the Witcher down and scream at him.

“Well, I was hardly expecting to see you two for another few weeks,” interjected Maja from the doorway to the sitting room. “What happened?”

“That fucking silver-haired devil,” Jaskier snarled.

“Of course. Leon, you are excused,” Maja said, not taking her eyes off Jaskier. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll send some refreshments to you.”

It was clearly a dismissal, one Leon seemed all too happy to take. “Thank you Lady Maja. Good night Milady, Milord,” he said, nodding to the both of them.

Jaskier stared down Maja in silence until they were both sure that Leon was out of earshot. “He’s clearly been sniffing around looking for me. He wanted me to leave with him.”

“Well, what do you expect?” Maja responded with a shrug. “You have found your purpose and your power. He is fighting against the fact that you don’t need him.”

“He will probably tell the others!” Jaskier snapped, his anger still burning white-hot in his gut. 

“Who? The other godkillers?” Maja asked. “I don’t care. It is too late now. The world is accepting the truth and will continue to accept it. Their vile nature is public knowledge now. Besides, they have no way of knowing where we are.”

“But —!”

“Why do you care?” Maja snapped. “Does the opinion of one man mean so much to ruffle you like this?”

Jaskier wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He had pushed Geralt from his mind for so long that seeing him had shaken him to his core. “It’s what he said.” he admitted finally.

“What he _said_? Oh _no_ , the poor bard had his feelings hurt _again_ by the godkiller,” Maja mocked. “His words are how he has always hurt you. This anger in you, are you using it to hide something else about the Godkiller?”

“What could I possibly be hiding? I am happy to be away from him, happy here with you,” Jaskier responded quickly.

“Of course, but to be so shaken by him, a man that abused you for decades,” Maja started slowly moving towards Jaskier. “Well, it makes me think that you still hold a flame for him. Maybe you liked being his lap dog. Following in his shadow. . . happy with whatever scraps he threw to you.”

“What?”

“However you could get his eyes on you, even in anger. It was enough to appease you. Was that why you were always so willing to fall to your knees for him?” Maja asked calmly. 

“That wasn’t it,” Jaksier stammered. But maybe she was right. He had been infatuated with the Witcher for so long that any attention was better than none. Was he so willing to put up with all of the cruel words just for those moments that made his mind think it was so much more? Moments that had been so far and few between that he had turned to doing anything he could to try to get more of them?

“I think it was.” Maja continued, “You were weak Jaskier, nothing but a cursed man's bard. Now though, you are strong,” Maja’s voice softened as she reached out to lay a gentle hand on his cheek. “You have all of us here and we want what is best for you. I would rather your anger at him be because he can not see the truth than because you have even the merest thought of returning to his side.”

“I would never go back there,” Jaskier said, leaning into her hand. “I’m happier here than I have been in years. We have a noble and true goal. We are spreading the truth.”

“It makes me so happy to hear you say that,” Maja said with a gentle smile, her hand still planted soothingly on his cheek, grounding him. “This is where you belong, Jaskier. We will protect you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Jaskier responded, his anger finally fading, leaving only the knowledge that he was where he belonged and exhaustion from the stress of this turn of events.

“All is forgiven, my dear bard,” Maja smiled, giving his cheek a final pat before releasing him and stepping back. “Go get some rest, you look like you need it. Tomorrow you can tell me what happened.”

\--------------------

“It seems this winter might not be too harsh,” Jaskier said from his seat in front of the throne. The stone was still cool under him, and not the most comfortable for extended periods. 

“Indeed,” Maja answered blandly from the throne, stretched out in her usual, elegant manner. Jaskier had been finding Maja here more often since his return and had started joining her for quiet conversations or to pass the hours in silence. He wasn’t sure why she always seems to gravitate to this room in particular and hadn’t cared enough to ask. 

“Any news from the merchants?” Jaskier asked. Things had been a little tense since his and Leon’s return. Several times he had caught the woman giving him thoughtful looks, but before he could ask what she wanted she would look away or leave the room. 

“No and I don’t expect anything from them till the spring,” Maja responded briskly. “Will you and Leon be staying all winter this year?”

“I think so, I could use the break for one. It will give me plenty of time to review the book again and come up with a couple more songs,” said Jaskier cheerfully. Getting back into the mindset of his goal was the best way to get any lingering thoughts of the Witcher out of his mind. “I was thinking come spring it might finally be time for us to head to Redania. I can save my triumphant return to Oxenfurt till the summer when I know the most people will be there.”

“About time, I was starting to worry you were afraid to return to the town of poets and bards,” Maja said cheekily, smirking down at Jaskier. Moments like this with their playful barbs had been slowly coming back. 

Jaskier feigned a deeply offended gasp. “Me? Afraid? Never my dear, I merely need the perfect song to strike them down.”

“So dramatic,” Maja laughed. “Well you had best-”

Suddenly, a sharp boom shook the room, resonating through the stone and shaking them from their conversation. 

“I swear those mages and their damn spells,” Maja griped. “I had best make sure they haven't killed themselves. I will be back.” Maja rose swiftly from her seat and marched out of the room. 

“Maybe a song about the mages would do well. Something to tease dear Leon with,” Jaskier pondered aloud to himself. 

He started humming a quiet song to himself as he waited for Maja to return. It still needed a lot of work but he was hoping to have it ready by the time they left in the spring, having a couple new songs would always be better for winning over tavern crowds than…

Another boom closer this time, louder and sounding like it could have been coming from the front hall. What the hell could they have been working on there?

Suddenly the sound of metal clashing rang through from the open door of the room. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier said. Were they under attack? He rose from his seat swiftly. The sound of fighting was getting closer. This room had no other exit; he was trapped here. 

Jaskier backed up to the front of the throne, farthest from the door. His eyes were glued to the door, waiting for whatever might come through thinking they could attack the residents of Laska Manor. 

“There, stop them!” screamed a male voice from not far enough away. “That mage is getting away!”

Jaskier hoped that someone would remember he was in here, but it was possible that no one besides Maja had known and she might have already fallen in the attack. He hoped he was wrong and that she and Leon would burst through the door at any moment, so all three of them could dash through a portal and away from this madness. 

Suddenly, a figure came bursting through the door, sword in hand, silver hair tousled from the fighting. 

“Witcher,” Jaskier growled.

\--------

Getting into the manor had been almost too easy. The warriors were putting up enough of a fight to keep things interesting. At least Lambert seemed to be enjoying it. Most of the mages had fled as soon as the bombs had started to go off, a few of the braver ones staying to hold off the four angry witchers. One of them, that Geralt recognized as Leon, had grabbed a woman before fleeing through a hastily made portal as he had dashed through the main hall into the house. 

Right now some scared mage was the least of his worries, he was here to find Jaskier. 

Geralt dashed through the hall, dodging hastily thrown spells and sword swings, headed toward the open door he could see at the back of the entrance hall. That was as good a place to start as any other. 

Geralt burst into the room sword at the ready, before slowly starting to lower it. Standing in front of what could only be described as a throne, was Jaskier. 

“Witcher.” He was mad. Geralt needed to say something. . . he needed Jaskier to know why he was here — why he was doing all this. 

“Jaskier” Geralt breathed out, his knees weakening. He was so happy to see him. 

“I thought I told you to leave me alone Godkiller,” Jaskier hissed at him, not moving from his place in front of the throne, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Jaskier, I couldn’t just leave you here,” Geralt started. “I’m here to take you back to Kear Morhen with me.”

“And why, pray tell, the fuck would I do that?” Jaskier asked angrily. 

“Because…” Fuck he needed to come out and say it. He had admitted it to Ciri already so why couldn't he just say it?

“Missing your lackey? Your punching bag?” Jaskier sneered, “I told you, Godkiller, I am where I belong and I have no need for you anymore. Now le-”

“I love you.”

“What?” Jaskier asked, mouth hanging open in shock. 

“I love you. I miss you. I need you,” Geralt said. He could smell smoke coming from the front hall and hear the sound of swords clashing still. “I never should have said all those things to you. I was angry, I was so angry at the world and at myself. I didn’t know what to do with all of it. You were the closest person to me and I just lashed out at you. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.” 

Geralt was out of breath by the end of his rushed speech, feeling like he had just run for days. But he continued to stare right at Jaskier, needing him to know he truly meant every word. 

“You think you love me?” Jaskier asked.

“I do love you.”

Jaskier started laughing, a full-bodied thing. “Oh, that is rich. You have a funny way of showing it don’t you Witcher. Or are cruel words just how you think love is shown?”

“Jaskier, I know you love me too. I should have heard it on the mountain when you asked me to go to the coast with you,” Geralt pleaded. Was Jaskier really so angry that even this wasn’t enough to show him how sorry he was?

"That's the thing Geralt, I never loved you. I loved the idea of you. The man _I_ built in my songs. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY" Jaskier sang-screamed, arms flung out to his sides, the clang of swords in the other room the perfect accompaniment to this declaration of pain. "And you know what?” Jaskier continued between ragged breaths, “ You never loved me either. You never even _liked_ me. Say what you will, I know the truth, and I will not be swayed by your false words. I spent years with you, caring for you, following you. Watching you chase after that temptress and damn each other. . . but you never loved me."

"That's not tr-" Geralt tried to say over him. 

"Do NOT lie! Words have never been your strong suit, Witcher. I can see now how much of a fool I was to ever believe you cared about me." The anger in Jaskier’s eyes was almost enough to make Geralt flinch. "No Godkiller, it is my turn to speak. And you will listen! This ends one of two ways, Witcher. You kill me and spill even more blood onto your already sullied hands....or you walk away and we never see each other again. I have found my purpose here and it is noble and true. I am where I belong, no longer in the shadow of a cursed man. So what will it be, Witcher?”

"Please Jaskier, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I was angry, I never should have lashed out at you." Geralt pleaded softly.

 _Fuck!_ Jaskier didn’t believe him. How could he show him that he meant it? That he was sorry, so sorry, for all the times he had injured his vibrant songbird because he had been too weak and too stupid to realize what he could have had.

He was out of options. This was it, whatever happened next. . . he deserved it. 

"What are you doing!?" Jaskier asked. 

The marble floor was cold on Geralt's knees. He could hear the crackle of the fire as it ate through the building — smell the smoke and tang of magic. But above all that, he was enraptured by the smell of chamomile, and the sound of boots clicking on marble as they moved towards him. 

"I don't deserve your forgiveness, Jaskier. You _should_ be angry for the way I treated you. You should hate me. I have no right to ask anything of you, but still I ask you to believe me. I mean every word of my love for you." Geralt begged from his place kneeled on the floor, head bowed in submission. 

"Oh, my dear," Jaskier cooed, slowly getting closer. It wasn't the angry screaming of minutes ago, the sound of it had hope blooming in Geralt’s chest.

Jaskier was right in front of him now. He could feel the heat radiating off of him, the chamomile oil he still used almost cloying in its strength, Geralt never wanted to smell anything else. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you. You were the only one that cared for me without expectation" Jaskier's hand was in his hair now. Running through it just like it used to when he would wash the ichor and monster guts from it. "Please Jaskier, I’m sorry."

"You beg so beautifully," Jaskier crooned as he leaned down towards Geralt. 

"Geralt!" Eskel screamed from behind him.

The sound of a crossbow firing, the bitterness of iron in the air, the clang of steel meeting marble. It all happened so fast. 

"Wha" Jaskier burbled, falling forward onto Geralt, who could only grab at him in shock. There was a bolt buried in his chest. 

"Did you not see the knife he had Geralt you fucking idiot!? What were you doing?" Eskel said as he ran towards them.

“No!” Geralt howled holding on to Jaskier as he crumpled into his arms, blood pouring out of the wound. 

“He had a knife raised to stab you Geralt,” Eskel explained from next to him. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked quietly. The bard was already starting to pale. 

“Geralt...” Jaskier said weakly from his arms, hand raising to run his fingers gently over his cheek before suddenly going limp and still.

“No. . . no, Jaskier please!” Geralt begged, leaning down so his body covered the bard’s. He couldn’t hear a heartbeat from him and his lips were blue. “Please Jaskier.”

“Geralt we need to leave. The building is on fire,” Eskel said rationally, turning away from the two of them. 

“I’m not leaving him!” Geralt roared. 

“He made his choice, Geralt,” Eskel said, stepping toward him. 

“No!” He screamed, hunching his body even further around Jaskier’s. “No, he didn’t deserve this. You killed him.”

“It was him or you,” 

“Then it should have been me!” Geralt answered. He caused this, he was the reason Jaskier was even here. Jaskier didn’t deserve to die like this. 

He leaned up a bit to look down at Jaskier; if not for the pale complexion and blue lips it would look like he was sleeping. Geralt bent down to plant a kiss on those lips — something he wished he would have done decades ago. Something he would never get to do again. 

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Lambert hollered from the doorway. “We need to go.”

“Geralt!” Eskel chimed in “We need to go. You can’t bring him with you.”

Eskel was right. 

. . .Eskel killed Jaskier. 

Geralt could hear the fire chewing through the rafters above him — feel the smoke thick on his skin. But Jaskier didn’t deserve to be left here to burn, with a crossbow bolt buried in his chest and his doublet stained red. 

“Now!” Lambert snapped, grabbing Geralt’s shoulder and pulling him away from Jaskier’s body. 

Geralt rose slowly to his feet, leaving Jaskier laying on the ground peacefully. He looked around the room, but he didn’t see his lute anywhere. He would have nothing of Jaskier to take with him. 

He looked down at the body one last time, his barker, his bard, Jaskier. Geralt turned swiftly and started to head out of the manor, not looking at either of his brothers as he marched through the burning wreckage of the front hall and the corpses that now littered it. 

He headed through the open front doors to find Vesemir standing staring at the burning estate a short distance away. 

“It will never be enough,” Geralt said as he came to stand next to the older Witcher and turned to watch the house burn. 

Vesemir didn’t respond, just kept facing forward watching the flames as the other two Witchers came barreling through the door and joined them. 

They stood, silent sentinels, watching as the building slowly turned to ash. The silence and smoke heavy and awkward in the night air around them.

As the smoke cleared and the remains smoldered on the ground, Geralt saw it… the throne. The velvet seat was gone now but the heavy stone had managed to outlast the flames. 

Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off the stone throne and the body he knew would be buried under the rubble and ash in front of it. 

_No. Time to get moving again,_ Geralt thought. He had turned his back on the only person that had truly loved him and cared for him without expectation before he could do it again. 

He had to. 

"Geralt, where are you going?" Eskel called out, his voice fading as Geralt walked away. 

"Back to the path. Always another monster to kill." Geralt said, ignoring the blood he could feel caked on his hands and cheek, dried now after hours of watching the fire burn. 

Jaskier was right, his hands would always be sullied with blood. He deserved nothing less. 

"I-I'm sorry it came to this Geralt," Eskel whispered — he knew Geralt would hear him. Geralt turned to look at Eskel, who was still holding the crossbow loosely in his hand, and from the grimace Eskel tried to hide he knew he must not have been hiding his pain very well. 

He would learn to live with this pain. It was a part of him already. 

He turned away again, heading back to where they had stored the rest of their gear. 

"And yet here we are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this. It was a lot of fun for me to write.  
> Mephy I have to thank you so much for Betaing this for me. I truly owe you so much, without you this story would still be an idea weeping to be let out of my head.  
> Till next time everyone! Be safe. Live well.


End file.
